Gyakuten MECHA: The Ties That Bind
by CantFaketheFunk
Summary: It is the year 4016. In a reimagining of the Ace Attorney series, young ace pilot Phoenix Wright finds himself caught up in events he'd never quite expected. Here, justice is no longer fought for in the courtroom... but with GIANT ROBOTS. EXTREMELY AU.
1. Introduction and Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (PLEASE READ):**

It started as a cracked-out, one-line joke in a discussion about the Phoenix Wright/Gyakuten Saiban/Ace Attorney cast in various other mediums: 'What if it were Phoenix Wright... IN SPACE?!'

Then? It sort of... took off. What if it **were** Phoenix Wright in space? More specifically, in a sci-fi giant robot "anime"? The wheels were turning, and people started to actually get interested. And contribute their own ideas, plotlines, and even some artwork. What had begun as a little crack project was now becoming a fully-realized Alternate Universe storyline.

So, we come to this.

A GIGANTIC **THANK YOU** to everyone who's worked on the project thus far, contributed even the smallest of ideas. ESPECIALLY: Kwoiffei, the Website Monkey; The Greg, Master Mecha Man; Urby, crack-adorable-artist extraordinare; Konran, who got the entire art-ball rolling; Busterella, Officially Awesome Character Designer; Gerkuman, who's always been willing to posit an idea; Zizzo, Awesomely New Character Art Person; Dannichu, Coloring Fiend; Empere, Astro-Science Nerd... and of course Musouka and Raelle, my partners in crime, without whom this would never have happened (and who have put up with my questions and ideas ENDLESSLY, far more than they should, and who I will always be indebted to).

I hope I didn't forget anyone there.

Anyway... on with the show!

---

So, I'm betting that, because you're here, you know Phoenix Wright. Ace Attorney. Gyakuten Saiban. However you choose to call it, you're all familiar with some spiky-haired, finger-pointing, cross-examination _ACTION_. Probably, you're pretty fond of it. You like the over-the-top-yet-surprisingly-developed characters, the twisting plotlines, and the thrill of finally cornering in on the truth and putting an end to the villain's nefarious plot.

All of that? Is awesome. Totally nifty and super cool and wonderful. Hot courtroom action, baby!

…but is that all? What if you took the characters we've come to know and love, and the overall themes and storylines that we've Investigated, Pressed, and Presented our way through… and put them into a _completely different _genre? How would it work? Would it still be awesome? What the hell would be going on?

Apparently…? There were those of us crazy enough to try. For your entertainment: Phoenix Wright in a way you've probably never thought of him before…

**Gyakuten **_**MECHA**_

_ A New Kind of Turnabout…_

The year is 4016.

Humanity, having exhausted the resources of the small blue world once called Earth, has expanded to the stars, gigantic lumbering city-ships carrying millions and millions of people scattering the seed of _Homo Sapiens_ throughout the galaxy in every direction. They found solar systems, planets and moons that were like the one they had left behind, and settled them, terraforming the worlds they could and managing to adapt to the ones they couldn't.

Our story takes place in one of these systems. It's merely a single solar system, to be true—but space is surprisingly big (especially given the impossibility of faster-than-light travel,) and the dozens upon dozens of planets and moons here provide plenty of room for the children of mankind to live their lives.

History is history. For almost a thousand years, the cultures on these planets change and evolve, though humanity is still humanity and it's not all that different than it used to be back on Earth. Cities, nations, even multi-world empires rise and fall over the millennia, because humanity IS still humanity and as long as greed and chaos lurks in the hearts of men, there will always be war and conflict.

Like there is now.

For almost thirty years, a military/political organization that calls itself the Saiban Federation has slowly been consolidating power, winning planets and moons to their side—using diplomacy where they could, but raw military power where they could not. An aristocratic, restrictive faction that desires to place the entire system under its sole control, the Federation is understandably not welcomed by many of the people it conquers.

Where there is discontent and oppression, there is rebellion and revolution. It is one of the fundamental truths of humanity… and here, it is no different. Many different rebel groups have risen in the wake of the Saiban Federation's bellicose march, and many of those separate factions have since consolidated themselves into one unified "Fusegi Alliance."

In any war, there are heroes on both sides. Our story focuses on one of these heroes, a young pilot who initially just wanted to meet a close childhood friend once more. Fate is a tricky thing, though, and he quickly found himself swept up in the current of revolution to wind up dead center on the stage of history. An ace pilot and later commander who would develop a reputation of being able to turn even the most hopeless situation into a victory, the master of the comeback… his name is Phoenix "Nick" Wright.

In the year 4016, justice is no longer fought for in the courtroom—but with giant freakin' robots.

---

_October 14th, 4001, 9:56 P.M.  
Calypso, third moon of Odyssey  
A small field about a mile outside of one of the minor cities_

Three children lay on their backs in the middle of a small pasture looking up at the nighttime sky.

High above them, the heavens stretched out to infinity, with countless stars dotting the firmament among other specks of light that might have been planets, far-off galaxies, nebulae, or any of the other natural phenomena in the universe. It was a perfectly clear night with not a cloud in sight, and since the only visible part of the bright blue disk that was the planet Odyssey was a small sliver of light near the horizon, there was nothing in the skies to interfere with viewing the spectacle above.

These three boys, not yet even ten years old, weren't quite paying attention to the vast natural universe before their eyes. Some of the specks of light in the night sky were, in fact, very much manmade. These little pinpoints were moving against the endless backdrop beyond—weaving, diving and corkscrewing through the air, and a sharp-eyed observer might notice even tinier streaks of light appearing between them. Ever so often, one of the luminous specks would flare up into a larger burst of reddish light, and then disappear entirely.

To three children lying on their backs in the middle of a small pasture looking up at the nighttime sky, it was a silent, beautiful light show that might as well have been put on just for them on that quiet October night.

However, reality seldom follows fantasy.

"You don't think the Feds saw us sneaking out, do you?" asked one of the boys in a hesitant, anxious tone, not taking his gaze off the dancing lights high overhead. "I mean… it's after curfew. We gotta be careful about these things."

Another of the trio—the tallest of the three, skinny, awkward and lanky with the seeds of what would eventually become puberty—gave a snorting laugh. "C'mon Nick, it doesn't matter. They're so stupid they'd never find us out here, anyway!"

The shortest of the three boys spoke in a quiet, thoughtful voice. "I think they've got bigger things to worry about than us tonight." To punctuate his thoughts, a pair of sparks in the sky flared up and died out silently.

The trio of friends was silent for another brief eternity as the wind hissed across the field. With a shiver, the tallest of them complained, "I'm cold."

"We told you not to wear shorts, Larry," retorted the one who'd spoken first. "You _knew_ it was gonna be cold tonight. You're so dumb sometimes."

"Hey! Why, you—!!" The tallest boy began to stand up, anger in his voice, ignoring the fact that the other boy had been perfectly correct in his assessment (he was prone to doing such things).

"Quiet, you guys," the third child's thoughtful voice sounded annoyed—but also a bit worried despite his earlier statement, because there was a pair of headlights a ways down the nearby road that was quickly approaching. All three of the friends immediately fell silent, flattening themselves on the ground amongst the tall strands of grass as the headlights grew closer. Eventually, they revealed themselves as belonging to a large, box-shaped transport of some sort that passed by the trio with a loud vibrating hum, hovering about two feet above the ground and then fading away into the distance, wherever it was up to.

Once they were sure it was far out of earshot, the first boy sat up, looking at where the twin red taillights were fading into the distance and running a hand through his spiky black hair. "Where do you think the lunchbox is going?" he asked, using the familiar term for one of the Federation troop carriers (which did, in fact, resemble a lunchbox with windows and an attached pilots' cabin rather remarkably).

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter. They're losing the fight up there," the short boy said confidently, pointing straight up at the dancing lights above.

"You sound… pretty sure," answered the spiky-haired youth. "Your dad's up there, right? You think he's okay?"

Both of his friends answered simultaneously, though the thoughtful-voiced child's indignant "Of course!" was drowned out by his taller, skinny friend leaping to his feet, and proclaiming, "You bet, Nick! Ol' Man Edgey's givin' it to the Feds right now! He's all 'WHOOSH,' and then he sees them and he's all 'BWEE! BWEE! BUDDA-BWEEE!' and then? They just go 'BA-BOOM!!' and then he finds a new enemy and is all 'BRAKKABRAKKABRAKKA,' and…" both of the other two grabbed him, one on each pant leg, and hauled him down to the grass with an audible "Oof!"

Though it was dark, you could hear the glare in the short boy's voice. "Don't call my dad that, Larry. And yes, he's absolutely fine. He's the best Captain in the entire fleet! Nobody can touch him! He's unbeatable!"

"Okay," shrugged the spiky-headed boy. "As long as you're sure."

They were silent for another long series of heartbeats, watching the beautiful and deadly ballet above. "So, do you want to be a pilot like your dad?"

"Yeah," the pride in the young boy's voice was audible. "He says I'll be a great pilot some day. He already says I'm one of the best navigators he's ever seen—he asked me to plot him a route the other day!" The short child's voice was practically glowing. "I'm gonna be a great pilot like him some day. Then? It'll be me up there making the Federation wish they'd never come here. What about you, Nick?"

"…well, I really want to be a magistrate," responded his friend with a shrug. "I think that… justice is important. But I guess being a pilot would be pretty cool. We could go into the academy together, right?"

"I guess so, yes," answered the others. "And you, Larry? Do you want to be a pilot?"

The third ran a hand through his unruly blond hair as he shook his head. "Naaaah," he said with a dismissive wave. "Too much work. I think I want to be a chef. Or a painter, maybe. Yeah, I could be a painter. Girls like painters, right?"

They fell silent once more as the battle overhead raged on.

---

_Fifteen Years Later  
Federation skiff_ UFS Boulet  
_In orbit around Muspel_

"Flight Officer Sahwit, report," commanded Winston Payne, Second Lieutenant in the Saiban Federation, from the bridge of his small spacecraft. He eagerly leaned against the commander's console, looking down at the gold Lieutenant's insignia on his chest. It was a bit dull, he thought. He'd have to polish it before he got his undoubtedly well-deserved promotion, of course.

Though the _Boulet_ was a small craft, it did have a small flight group of four well-maintained _Perseus_-series mechs, all of which were currently making their very slow way through the treacherous asteroid belt that surrounded the immense gas giant Muspel. The unfathomably huge scarlet bulk of Muspel dominated the scenery on the forward viewscreen, with only a little bit of black space visible at the top corners of the display.

The voice of Flight Officer Sahwit came back a bit tinny through the speakers in this older-model ship. "Nothing yet, Lieutenant. Other than that brief emission of Garyuu Waves earlier, there's been no sign of them." There was a pause, and Sahwit's voice seemed a bit uncertain. "Are you… sure they're here, sir? Muspel's atmosphere is weird, the waves could have come from the planet itself…"

Payne adjusted the officer's cap that fortunately covered his balding head completely. "I'm positive, Officer," he said, his high-pitched voice terse. Really, he'd have to discipline Sahwit for such a blatant lack of common sense. After all, Garyuu Waves were _only_ emitted from operational Jump Drives—everybody knew that! That one of _his_ subordinates would be attributing such a hard scientific fact to the hocus-pocus and superstition that surrounded Muspel? It was almost _offensive_.

A confident, smug smirk found its way onto Payne's aging face. _They were ambushed above Hobbes, barely managed to escape with their lives… and according to accounts of the fight, their Jump system was damaged. There are only a few planets within reach that they could make it to without detection, and of those, the Muspel Belt is the only place with enough uninhabited cover available to perform Jump repairs!_ It was so obvious. Clearly, his talents were being quite wasted on such an aging, broken-down ship with such a small mecha force. But this would all change shortly… oh yes, it would change!

Confident in his absolutely brilliant deductions, Payne shook his head, that smug smirk growing wider. "Officer, the _Kurain_ is hiding in the Muspel Belt. They're damaged, and only have two or three mechs ready for combat. As Muspel is part of our patrol jurisdiction, and we are loyal sons of the Federation, it is our duty to hunt those vagabonds down and bring them to justice!"  
_  
And what sweet revenge it will be… _added Payne silently. True, the _ARS Kurain_ had certainly been an ever-growing thorn in the High Admiral's side, and eliminating Captain Mia Fey and her henchmen would certainly bring him (and his subordinates, he supposed) huge amounts of glory and honor. But after the humiliating defeat he'd suffered at the hands of Captain Fey five years ago that had led to demotion and disgrace… oh, this was certainly personal.

Her ship had been badly damaged in the ambush at Hobbes, she only had two or so combat-ready mecha, and his four pilots were well-trained and in undamaged, perfectly-maintained machines. Payne's grip on the railing of the commander's chair tightened in anticipation. When the High Admiral heard about his single-handed defeat of Fey and the _Kurain_? Oh, he'd be rewarded. Given his own, bigger ship. Promoted to Commander! Or Major! Or—dare he imagine it?!—even Colonel. He could imagine the award ceremony already…

"Sir? We're picking up something."

"Keep going, Flight Officer! We've got them now!" His voice was shrill with excitement and the thrill of his certain glory-to-come. _Your notorious luck shan't save you today… Captain Mia Fey.  
_  
---

"It's gone," said Flight Officer Sahwit, frustration in his voice as he checked the instruments lining the small, cramped cockpit of his _Perseus_-class mech. "02, did you pick up that blip on the sensors just now?"

His wingman had, but there was doubt in his voice as he spoke. "Yes sir, but… there's lots of metal in these asteroids. You don't think it was just a sensor ghost?"

Making sure that the transmission was private and just between the two of them, Sahwit shook his head, sighing. "Might be. But the Lieutenant certainly doesn't think so right now. He's obsessed." The Flight Officer shifted in his chair, letting go of one of his controls for a second to tap in commands to their two AI-piloted companions. "Spread out, 02. There could be dozens of enemies hiding in this damn asteroid field." _Or, more likely, no enemies at all. The Lieutenant's crazy._

There it was again—! The strange blip on his sensors… but as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. It had been behind him, and Sahwit spun his mech around to check visually. There wasn't anything there but hunks of floating rock and the giant red orb that was the treacherous atmosphere of Muspel. Sahwit sighed to himself. They were imagining things. The Lieutenant's paranoia was beginning to get to them all. He really should put in a transfer request.

All of a sudden, 03 and 04—the two AI suits—exploded in twin gouts of flame, and Sahwit briefly saw a crimson stream that looked like a jet of plasma. _They were here after all!_ "02, evasive—!" he shouted out loud, as the mystery blip on the sensors returned… and in his viewscreen as well. It was quick; it was much quicker than any mech he knew, and for a brief instant it crossed Sahwit's mind that it looked almost… avian. Like some sort of mythological red bird. "What _is_ that thing?!"

Then, there was another flash of crimson plasma, and not much crossed his mind at all anymore.

---

On the bridge of the _Boulet_, Second Lieutenant Payne stood, a blank stare on his face as he stared at the four lights that represented his ship's mech forces. All four of the lights were red. All four of his mecha were gone. He'd been right about the _Kurain_… but… he'd been wrong about so much more. Payne could see his promotion fading away, replaced with even more humiliation and disgrace.

He quickly input the commands to Jump back to sector HQ in case the mystery pilot was coming after him, next—and wondered how he could _possibly_ spin this on the report to not go down as his fault…

---

The four Federation mecha had been reduced to so much space debris, rubble to join the asteroids in their eternal orbit around the gas giant Muspel. There was a twinge of guilt as there always was, but if he hadn't taken them out, many, many more lives would have been forfeit. Outside of the asteroid field, the parent craft gave a little flicker of motion and then vanished into Jumpspace.

Fighting the urge to run a hand through his spiky hair (which was quite impossible due to his flightsuit's helmet, anyway), Lieutenant Phoenix Wright of the Fusegi Alliance keyed his communications unit. "All four enemy craft have been eliminated," he began in as formal a tone as he could manage, "and their control ship has retreated."

"I can quite see that from here, Wright," came the warm voice of his commander through the speakers of his cockpit. "Good work. You keep flying better and better."

From Captain Mia Fey, that was high praise indeed, and Phoenix would have been lying to himself if he tried to pretend it didn't sort of give him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside to hear it. "Thanks, Captain. Permission to land?"

"Permission granted. Come back in and get something warm to eat. It's cold out there."

Phoenix Wright nodded an affirmative, grasped the controls of his mech, and made his way back to the relative safety and comfort of the _ARS Kurain._

**Gyakuten MECHA, Arc One**

_The Ties That Bind_

**The Beginning…**


	2. The Ties That Bind, Chapter 1

Rawr, Chapter One of this… _behemoth_.

In case it wasn't clear by the first post, the **Gyakuten MECHA** project is a _complete_ retelling of the first three Gyakuten Saiban / Phoenix Wright games, in a science fiction / 'giant robots! anime' setting. Though, it's not exactly game for game, as, uh, you'll see in a bit.

Pretty much every single character from the series will have at least SOME role in GyakuMECH, some more prominent than others, of course. So if there's a character you're oddly fond of, worry not! They'll be in this thing:P

There will be characters from Gyakuten Saiban 3 / Trials and Tribulations in this story (yes, even in the first arc) … but as they're not in the situations they are in the game, it's really only a personality/appearance thing, and are minor spoilers at best.

Finally, I actually have a HUGE request—we've got a great crew working on this already, whether it comes to writing or the art side of things. However, especially with art, we're always looking for more people to come contribute what they can to the GyakuMECH project!

Specifically, there's a minor art project alongside the raging beast that is GyakuMECH, which we've dubbed "Project Stargazer." If you're an artist who's pretty good with a pencil/tablet/whatever… and you might be intrigued in just helping out by contributing a single (or multiple, if you'd like!) pictures, please drop me a line at with some examples of your artwork!

"Stargazer" will officially start next chapter, though, so if you'd like to wait off until then to see what it's all about, you can do that too. Next chapter, too, will feature the introduction of another side 'project,' the wonderful and amazing Urby's **"Go For It, Phoenix!"**

(Yes, the name is a blatant ripoff… er… homage.)

Hm. I think that's just about it…

Enjoy the show!

**The Ties That Bind**

**Chapter One**

_End of December, 4001_

_Calypso_

It was cold on the large moon of the water planet Odyssey, as winters often were. Still, despite the frost on the ground and the snow that would gently drift from the overcast gray skies, a child's enthusiasm is not often dampened by such things. The three friends—Phoenix Wright, Larry Butz, and Miles Edgeworth—in absence of schooling for their winter break, would meet every day at the corner near Phoenix's house to band together for the day's adventure.

Until one day, Miles Edgeworth didn't come.

That in itself was nothing unusual—perhaps he'd caught a cold from the winter chill? Certainly not out of the question. However, when Phoenix and Larry went to the small house that was Miles' home to visit their undoubtedly sick friend, there was nobody there. Even _that_ wasn't all that strange. They'd all run away from home at times, and in fact Larry had once been prone to entering hysterics and fleeing home multiple times a week. Surely, Miles would return within a day.

He didn't.

Nor did he return the next day. Or within a week.

Though the two remaining friends kept meeting at the same place at the same time every day for the next month, Miles Edgeworth did not join them. Even after school resumed, Phoenix would wait at the same street corner like he always did, often accompanied by his absent-minded blond friend. It made no sense. How could someone who was _always_ there just vanish? Surely, he'd be there _today_ if nothing else!

But Miles Edgeworth never came back.

-------

_November 3__rd__, 4016, 1343 Ship's Time_

_Alliance Cruiser _ARS Kurain

_In the Asteroid Field surrounding Muspel_

Even though it was really just a hunk of metal, and he'd only been attached to it for less than five months, the large white bulk of the _Kurain_ really did seem like home. Phoenix gingerly guided his own hunk of metal and circuitry through the treacherous belt of spaceborne rock that surrounded the immense gas giant Muspel, weaving in and out between the slowly spinning asteroids that had provided him with the cover he'd needed in his minor skirmish not moments ago.

The _Kurain_ was a rather large flat wedge, like one gigantic airplane wing that didn't quite have a fuselage in the middle. The space near the ship was relatively clear of asteroids (their weapons techs had done an almost-_too_-thorough job when they'd first arrived), though if Phoenix looked closely he could watch the smaller rocks bouncing off the ship's kinetic shielding with bright blue energy sparks and an imaginary 'spang!' in his head. The young pilot's hands gently and deftly worked the familiar controls, steering his mech under the large craft to the main hangar.

As he passed through the invisible magnetic field that kept all the air and good things that made life possible 'in' (and most of the minor, life-threatening things in empty space that weren't exactly helpful to most living things 'out'), Phoenix felt a little "pop" around him as he always did. Giving an extra-hard twist to the dark red handle on his right side to ensure that his craft's plasma wings were most definitely and completely 'off,' the pilot landed expertly and smoothly, and—now that he no longer had to worry about controlling a giant engine of destruction—reached up to pop the seals on his helmet and placed it to the side of his pilot's chair.

Phoenix heaved a little sigh as he ran a gloved hand through his spiky black hair, relishing the feeling of relatively fresh air in his lungs other than the stale recycled stuff in his flight suit. Still, the suit would keep him alive if something went wrong, so he supposed he couldn't complain _too_ much.

Giving a quick check around the cockpit to make sure everything that should be off _was_ off, the spiky-headed pilot unbuckled the straps holding him to the craft's control seat and hit the control to pop the main entranceway. In front of him, a crack of bright light formed at the top of the door (he had to hold up a hand in front of his face until his eyes adjusted) and slowly grew bigger with the soft whir of servos. The front of the cockpit opened outwards and downwards, becoming a platform of sorts for him to exit the craft onto the pilots' scaffolding in front of him.

Before he left his ship, Phoenix paused and looked back in at the mostly-dark cockpit with a frown on his face. "RYUUICHI," he said out loud at last. "Do you think you could run a diagnostic on the lateral thrust controls for me? It felt a bit 'sticky' out there today." Oh sure, the lateral movement hadn't really hindered him at all, but he could feel something strange, and even a little bit of strangeness in a multi-ton war machine wasn't quite good for business.

With a beep, the AI acknowledged him in its strangely-human voice, "Of course, Lieutenant Wright." A series of running lights on the main console lit up like a holiday tree, indicating that the AI was busy with its new task.

Phoenix caught the eye of the Deck Officer below and tossed him a short if friendly wave. The Deck Officer, whose job it was to regulate all the more boring aspects of flight—logging times, coordinating mechanic work, et cetera—was a fairly non-descript brown-haired man who managed to be rather friendly and yet quite stern at the same time. Really, though, Phoenix liked him. He was a real pro at his job, after all.

"Wright, the Captain sent down a message for you," called the Officer in his deep voice. "She's a bit busy discussing things with Commander Kaminogi right now, so she'll send for you when it's time for the debriefing. So just hang tight for a while, or go get something to eat."

"All right," returned Phoenix, scratching his head with a frown as the Deck Officer returned to his duties. Well, then… he'd been supposing he'd take care of his debriefing first, but if he had time, he might as well put it to good use. The young pilot spun 180 degrees and returned the way he'd come, heading back to his mech.

Okay, technically it was the Fusegi Alliance's mech. But it was often said that pilots formed a bond with their machines, and Phoenix Wright was no exception. He'd grown attached to this 'hunk of metal' over the months he'd been piloting it. It was about 70 or so feet tall, easily dwarfing him (in fact, even the pilots' scaffolding barely came up to the cockpit nestled in its "chest", and it was a good 45 feet off the ground!)… of course, if you counted the three back-swept golden crests on the "head" of the machine, that number got even higher.

It was, like most mecha used for space combat, humanoid, and given its speed tended to the more slender end of the spectrum—though it was fairly well armored, and Phoenix was embarrassed to admit that if that hadn't been the case, his career as a pilot would have been much shorter than he'd have liked (along with his life.) However, given the crests that looked almost like a plume, the large, almost winglike "shoulder" compartments that housed his two auxiliary miniguns, and the fact that the armor on the "head" gave it a more pointed, beak-like appearance than a human face… Phoenix thought it looked rather avian. Particularly when he'd engaged the plasma wings, though that would be a fairly poor idea inside the ship's atmosphere.

Especially given its fiery, red-yellow-and-orange color scheme, Phoenix Wright thought its name was rather fitting. Apparently, ages ago on Old Earth, the Huma had been a mystical bird worshipped by some group of people called the 'Persians,' a bird that was a blessing of good luck and immortal to boot, restoring itself in a burst of fire upon death. All in all? Having an immortal good-luck symbol as your ship in an interplanetary war seemed to be a fairly good thing.

Still, immortal fire-bird or not, that sticky lateral thrust would be a pain in his neck if unchecked. RYUUICHI was a powerful AI and the task hadn't exactly been what one would call taxing—by the time Phoenix returned, the lights were blank, indicating that the diagnostic had been finished. "Did you find anything?"

Even though Phoenix had turned the visual representation off, he could imagine the AI shaking its head as it responded, "Negative. No irregularities detected." Not all mech AI constructs talked in such a formal tone of voice—it depended on the personality of its original human base, of course—but no matter how many times Phoenix told this one to knock it off, it didn't.

However, the frown on Phoenix's face wasn't due to the AI's irritating speech habits. That was odd. The diagnostics were usually fairly thorough. "And you ran a complete analysis of all systems that could be the issue?"

"Affirmative."

Phoenix sighed to himself. Really, the more advanced technology seemed to get, the more problems popped up right alongside it. Well, he had time, and there really was no substitute for some old-fashioned hands-on work. Granted, he wasn't the best mechanic, but he knew his stuff, especially when it came to the Huma. "RYUUICHI, can you pop the dorsal service ports?" There was a beep of acknowledgement and a hiss of hydraulics from further back on the fire-colored robot as the access panels slid open.

The young pilot leaned into the cockpit to unclasp the toolbox fastened securely to the wall by the floor, and holding it in one hand, gingerly walked along the small ledge that led around the Huma's body from the main door to the dorsal service hatches. He was all too aware of the ground 45 feet below, after all. Thankfully, there was significantly more stable ground in the back of the craft where the access panels had opened, and Phoenix crouched down, setting the toolbox down on the ground and preparing to enter the crawlspace.

"Wright!" came the deep voice of the Deck Officer from below. "You doing maintenance? Need me to get a mechanic on that?" He really _didn't_ miss anything—quite a pro at what he did, thought Phoenix for the second time.

"No, it's all right!" Phoenix called back. "I'm just doing a little check-up of my own." Besides, even though it was selfish and a little bit irrational… the Huma was his ship. He had that connection to it, and actually found himself not liking people who weren't him messing around with its workings. After all, he was the one who had to fly the damn thing into the heat of combat, and he wanted it working just the way he liked it.

Phoenix returned to the crawlspace that gave him access to the servos that controlled the left-side thrust cluster, taking his gloves off and tucking them into one of the pockets of his dark blue flight-suit. Okay, yeah, the suit wasn't exactly meant for this, but it was sturdy and not entirely uncomfortable, and it was better to get oil and grease on this than his normal jacket, right?

He grabbed a spanner from the toolbox, put a small flashlight between his lips, and looked to see if he could find anything out of the ordinary.

The pilot had long gotten over the feeling of intense claustrophobia in the small crawlspace, but it was still cramped lying on his back in the tunnel, surrounded by gadgets and gizmos of every size and color. Phoenix thought to himself as he shone the flashlight at the various devices, trying to piece together what could be screwing up _this_ time.

It'd been most apparent when moving to the right, so perhaps it had to do with the left thruster control? He shifted onto his side, the flashlight in his mouth illuminating a series of red wires and circuits… but though he looked at them carefully, and prodded a few to make sure they were securely connected, nothing looked out of place.

"NICK! HEY, NICK!"

The loud voice from outside the Huma's crawlspace startled him, and Phoenix reflexively tried to sit up—and then hissed in pain, lying back down on his back once more as he gingerly cradled the part of his spiky head he'd just bumped against the top of the tunnel. _Geez, that smarts…_

As Phoenix lay there fighting the throbbing pain in his forehead, the voice continued—a male voice, with a sort of hysterical bent that Phoenix Wright knew all too well. "C'mon Nick, I know you're there!" Naturally he recognized the voice, having heard it in various forms since he was four years old. Though little sparks still danced in his vision, the young pilot slid his way out of the service crawlspace, sitting up (continuing to press his hand to his forehead) and giving a side.

"I'm over here, Larry," called Phoenix reluctantly, making sure to grab onto a little handle on the side of the Huma as he stood up. Though he was a bit dizzy, he knew Larry well enough to know that trusting him on a small catwalk above a 45-foot drop wasn't the best idea one could make. Phoenix sidled along the ledge alongside his mech until his friend came into view.

Over the years, Phoenix had seen Larry Butz in many various states of emotion, though his excitable, even hysterical nature had remained a constant. He was spacey, easily excited (and even more easily distracted), and not even Phoenix—who'd known him for over two decades now—knew what he was thinking at times. Yet despite that, he meant well, was a (usually) dependable friend, and a competent wingman. Plus, Phoenix would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't a little bit attached to the guy.

Currently, Larry wasn't wearing his garish orange flightsuit, instead clad in his just-as-garish and just-as-orange jacket and thankfully-less-deafeningly-loud black slacks. He was standing on the pilots' scaffolding, and he looked to be… crying? "Nick!" he cried as he saw his friend. "Nick! You gotta help me, Nick!

Phoenix sighed to himself, running a hand through his black hair. _Aww geez. Not again._ "Larry… did you get dumped by," _Ack! Was it… was it Hilary? No, it was… _"Kiyance? Is that what happened?" His overly-excitable friend had a predilection for getting into relationships with attractive and temperamental women—and getting out of them just as quickly.

For a second, Larry's face sobered up into a quizzical frown. "Kiyance? What? No, man, Kiyance was like… a month ago! It was Cindy, Nick! Cindy dumped me!" he returned to crying, the tears trickling down his face and sparkling in the white fluorescent lights of the hangar. _Oh, right, Cindy. He expects me to keep all of them straight…?_

"Er… I'm sorry to hear that, Larry," said Phoenix, resting a hand on his blond friend's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find someone else…" _That is, if we haven't already run out of female spotters on the _Kurain, _of course!_ That was _also_ a penchant of Larry's. Almost every mech pilot was assigned their own personal spotter, who'd watch the "big picture" for them, warn them of anything they might not have seen, and in general just watch their back. For his friend, though? He always requested female spotters, and almost always, invariably, fell for them.

So, for Larry, his spotters were almost more of a distraction than anything else, and Phoenix had been forced to bail his wingman out of more than one sticky situation resulting from the absent-minded blond man flirting with his spotter instead of paying attention to the battlefield.

"Hey, Larry," volunteered Phoenix at last, "You know… maybe you don't always have to date your spotters, right?" This of course was true, and if Larry kept ending up on the bad sides of the _Kurain's_ female crew, there might not be any more willing to take him as their pilot before long, anyway!

"What?!" there was a sparkle other than tears in Larry's eyes now, and Phoenix repressed a sigh, because he knew that look well. "How can you say that, Nick?! There's a bond—a special bond between support crew and pilot that nothing else can equal! It's a bond of trust, I trust her with my life! It's beautiful, there's nothing possibly stronger than it in the _entire universe_, Nick! How can I possibly say no to that!"

_It's not like I actually expected that to work, anyway._ "Well, then… maybe you should request a male spotter for next time? Just, y'know, for a bit of variety?"

Larry straightened up, tilting his head to the side and looking at his black-haired childhood friend, an expression on his face that fell somewhere between utter confusion, deep shock, and a bit of disgust. "W-what? A guy? Nick… what are you saying? You think I'm…?! Nick, man, I'm not into that!"

"That wasn't what I—nevermind, Larry," Phoenix sighed audibly. "Nevermind. You'll get over Cindy, you know. You always do."

The blond pilot wrung his hands together. "Well, yeah, but… she dumped me, Nick! Why'd she do such an awful thing! She was my sweetie!"

_Oh, I haven't the foggiest…_ "I'm sure she… just had things to work out on her own," Phoenix assured his friend. "Trust me, she'll come to her senses in no time." _And request a transfer._

With a sniff, Larry shook his head, using the sleeve of his bright orange jacket to wipe away the traces of tears from his cheeks. "I guess… you're right, Nick. You always are. What a pal!"

"Thanks, Larry. Say… I've got to get back to—" but Larry was already walking away, a more noticeable spring in his stride even now. Phoenix fell silent, hand still frozen mid-air where it had been resting on Larry's shoulder as he watched his friend leave, feeling the throb in his head start to ache even stronger.

He shrugged and sidled along the catwalk once more to return to the crawlspace. Maybe he should check the thrust compressors on the left side, too…

However, the thrust compressors seemed to be absolutely fine. As did the accelerator circuitry, the spatial response failsafe switches, and even the redirection inducers… though the right inducer did have a few slightly loose bolts, but they were only a _bit_ loose and Phoenix didn't think the inducer had much of an effect on lateral thrust, he tightened them anyway.

Phoenix was still searching for a definite cause to his problem when a second voice called out his name. "Hey, Nick! Are you there?"

For the second time that day, he reflexively tried to sit up—and then with a bonk and a groan, sank back to the ground clutching his forehead, really wishing he hadn't. He could have sworn that the stars were supposed to be _outside_ the ship, not inside his mech, really…

"Nick!" the voice was calling, and this time it was female, and significantly less hysterical (though no less energetic) than Larry's. It was also a voice that Phoenix knew quite well. _What does she want?_ asked Phoenix mentally as he slid out of the service entrance, nursing his second collision-induced headache and standing to his feet once more.

However, before he could climb around the side of the Huma yet another time to go meet this new intruder… it seemed she'd decided to seek him out instead. Sticking her head out around the side of the fiery-colored mech, Maya Fey beamed when she saw Phoenix. "There you are! You…" she fell silent for a moment, looking at the rather magnificent bump on his head. "You okay, Nick?"

"…Yeah, I'm fine," Phoenix said at last, shaking his head and stepping back, giving Maya room to join him on the service platform. "Just… just bumped my head, is all." The girl stepped into full view, though she was holding her hands behind her back. _Is she hiding something?_ "What's up, Maya?"

Maya's face was cheerful as always, and she was certainly a welcome change from his hysterical last visitor. Whereas Larry's relationships with his spotters tended to last exactly as long as his personal ones (which, obviously, wasn't very)… Maya had been Phoenix's spotter almost as long as he'd been on the _Kurain_, and he'd admittedly bonded with her over the months.

She was energetic (spunky, even), cheerful, warm, and also one damn good spotter. Though Phoenix really didn't know all that much about it, he knew that Maya's family (naturally including her older sister, the Captain Mia Fey) were known for having a… sort of sixth sense, as it were, an 'awareness' that served particularly well in a battle sense. It was part of what made the elder Fey sister such an able commander, but it also made the younger Fey someone Phoenix was glad to have at his back.

His spotter was in her usual purple and lavender jumpsuit that she often wore around the _Kurain_ (not because she was expecting to do any exercise, but because it was comfortable, she'd told him). However, her long black hair that she wore in a loosely gathered tail was topped by a snow-white officers'-style cap. Obviously, that wasn't hers.

In a swift motion, she swung her arms out from behind her back, a silvery box contained in her hands, which she presented to Phoenix proudly. "Ta-da! Sis told me you'd been out on patrol for a few hours, so… I brought you lunch!"

Well now, he certainly hadn't been expecting _that_… but it certainly wasn't unwelcome, and Phoenix realized that his stomach had been growling. It had been hours since he'd last eaten—but one really didn't think about such things when in the cockpit of a giant war machine, after all. "Thanks, Maya. I was getting hungry." He smiled at her, taking the silver container from her—he could feel the warmth from the self-contained heat-source through the outer shell, which felt quite nice against his hands.

…however, it wasn't entirely sealed like it was supposed to be. A corner of the foil up in the top right had been peeled back. With a frown, Phoenix opened the rest of the container to find that there was certainly less of his "mashed potatoes" (really just flavored protein, but certainly not unpalatable and surprisingly accurate in taste) than there should have been.

Phoenix looked down at her, arching a black eyebrow wordlessly, though the bemusedly-irritated expression on his face that he knew Maya knew quite well spoke volumes. Though he didn't say a thing, the girl got the message. "I was hungry," she said defensively, putting a hand on her hip. "And I'd already finished mine!"

Shaking his head—though the sudden flash of pain from his temples made him vow to not it again for the next hour or so—Phoenix chuckled softly, sitting down on the edge of the service platform, dangling his legs over the ledge. He wasn't _that_ hungry, really.

He looked up at where she was standing, indicating the white cap crowning her black hair with a tilt of his head. "That's your sister's, isn't it?"

Maya nodded, smiling down at her pilot again. "Yep! …so?" she asked, though the smile never left her face. "I think it looks good on me, Nick!" the young Fey sister reached up to grab the black brim and playfully tilt it down inclining over her face, striking a silly little pose as she did so. "Someday, right? 'Captain Maya Fey'… what do you think about that, Nick?"

_I think I'm going to keep my mouth shut._ "…maybe when you're your sister's age," shrugged Phoenix as he continued to eat the meal she'd brought him.

"Oh, you're no fun," pouted Maya, as she sat down beside him, straightening the cap on her head. Phoenix could see her peering over at his rations out of the corner of his eyes. She really wasn't very subtle when it came to food. Nor was she very subtle when it came to, uh, anything else, really.

"You already had some," he reminded her. "Besides, didn't you have… uh… training of some sort to go to, today?" Phoenix still wasn't clear on if it were training or just schooling of some sort, but he knew that with some exceptions—say, a battle—Maya would usually be busy around this time.

She shook her head, her long black hair flying wildly. "Nope. Well, not until 1400, anyway."

Maya paused, quiet for once as she seemed to be thinking. "Hey Nick," she ventured, and there was a slight tone of uncertainty in her voice. "…what time is it?"

There was an audible 'squawk' and then a pop as the ship-wide intercom turned on. Phoenix reflexively looked up at the ceiling where the large speakers were installed, curious as to what would be said.

A slightly-tinny, harsh-sounding female voice came over the speakers, said one phrase, and then fell silent with a second pop indicating the intercom was turned off. "Will Maya Fey report to the training center _on the double_?" Beside him, he could see Maya visibly flinch and then stiffen up. Phoenix turned to her, raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he continued to eat.

After a split second of remaining frozen, she scrambled to her feet and then practically dashed out of sight around the Huma—but then stopped, poking her head back around. "Sorry for eating some of your lunch!"

He heard the clanking of her shoes on the pilots' scaffolding as she ran off in quite a hurry, desperate to avoid being _too_ in trouble. It would be even worse for her, Phoenix supposed, given that she was the Captain's little sister. Mia'd probably give her one heck of a talking-to, anyway.

Phoenix finished the rest of his lunch in relative peace and quiet without being disturbed, and then decided to give the mechanic-ing one last try. Machines could be _so_ temperamental sometimes…

After being interrupted twice and suffering blunt trauma both times, the pilot from Calypso was oddly prepared for the third. "Wright!" came the deep voice of the Deck Officer calling up for him. This time, Phoenix simply slid out from the maintenance crawlway without injuring himself (which wasn't all that much to be proud about, but he took pride where he could get it).

The pilot stood up, peering down into the rest of the hangar bay where the blue-suited officer was looking up at him. "Yes?"

"Captain's called for you. Head up to her office!"

Phoenix nodded an affirmative, and turned to go—but then remembered that he'd left his tools in the maintenance crawlspace. He crouched down to collect them all and put them in the toolbox, tightly shut and clasped the box, and then stood back up. However, he'd forgotten about the open access hatch above him, and with a magnificent "clang," the metal met the back of his head.

Fighting the urge to swear, Phoenix grabbed the back of his head with his free hand, closing his eyes tightly and leaning up against the hull of the Huma, waiting for the continuous throbbing to let up a bit. He supposed he should be somewhat thankful that it was the back of his head this time. _At least I'm giving myself evenly distributed concussions._

Once the world finally stopped spinning, he went to put away his tools and go meet the Captain as ordered.

-------

The buzzer that indicated someone was waiting outside her office door sounded. Without looking up from the data-display on her desk, Captain Mia Fey called, "Enter," and heard the door slide open.

"Phoenix Wright reporting as ordered, Captain."

Mia looked up at the young pilot she'd grown fond of over the past few months, and favored him with a small smile, keeping her exhaustion from her face. He was standing just inside the doorway in a formal salute, and she could see spots of grease and oil on his blue jumpsuit. "Come in, Wright. Sit down." She gestured to the seat in front of her desk.

Her office wasn't large—space was a luxury on a warship, and there was no point in being more extravagant than she had to. It was mostly empty, though there were various pieces of art hanging from the walls, and a potted plant over in the corner that was oddly peaceful to water. Her desk, likewise, was clear other than her work equipment and a simple holographic photo. The photo was of Mia and her younger sister, clearly much younger. Both of them were laughing at a moment long forgotten, though the picture always made her smile when she looked at it.

The young pilot relaxed, and moved to sit in the white chair. Mia noticed he seemed to be wincing as he moved his head, but said nothing. She indicated the grease on his flightsuit with a wave of her hand. "Doing a bit of mechanic work?"

Phoenix nodded, a bit of a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry, didn't have time to get cleaned up first… and when I was out there, the lateral movement felt a bit 'sticky,' I guess. Tried to see if I could poke around and find what was wrong, since the diagnostics turned up blank."

The Captain frowned, absentmindedly taking off her white officer's cap and straightening her long brown hair as she spoke. "Sticky? Did you check the thrust compressors?"

Nodding again, Phoenix shrugged. "That was the first thing I really checked."

"…what about the accelerator circuits?"

"Those were the second. The inducers had a few loose bolts, but I don't think that was the problem."

Mia paused in thought, before shaking her head. "That shouldn't be it, you're right. I'll send a mechanic down to check it out, okay?"

He shook his head. "No, that's all right. I'll… I'll poke around a bit after we're done here."

There was another pause as Mia smiled softly and knowingly, shaking her head. "Oh, Wright. Don't want anyone messing around with your mech, do you?" She chuckled warmly to herself, "pilots are all the same. I was like that, too." Dropping the subject, she swiveled in her chair, tapping at the console to her right and looking at some information that just had popped up on the screen. Though she did her best to conceal it, Phoenix could see the frown that momentarily crossed her attractive face, but he said nothing.

"Anyway, I won't keep you long. Just need you to confirm what we saw here. You were out on patrol, when a Federation skiff Jumped in and released four mecha to scout the asteroid field, correct?"

Phoenix nodded in affirmation. "Yes. I'm fairly sure that two of them were AI-controlled, but two of them were manned. They were moving in a search pattern, like they were looking for something."

Mia was silent in thought for a second before she slowly nodded to herself. "All right, I see. You engaged all four, and took them out in a matter of seconds. Quite impressive, Wright."

He looked embarrassed, and reached up to scratch at his spiky black hair—but winced as he did so. "I had the advantage of surprise, and they were older, mass-produced models…"

The Captain raised an eyebrow, an amused expression on her face. "Wright… learn to take a compliment. You flew extremely well out there today, and you've only been getting better."

His face flushed slightly, but he nodded in acceptance. "Thank you, Captain."

"So… you think they knew we were here?"

Phoenix thought for a moment, and then responded, certainty in his voice. "They knew _something_ was here, but I can't say if they were looking for us directly, or they just happened to come across us."

"Understood. Thank you, Lieutenant Wright, that'll be all." Mia smiled at Phoenix again. "You're dismissed. Go back to tinkering with your mech… oh, and Wright? Put some ice on those lumps. They look painful."

Phoenix Wright stood, gave her a salute, and then left her office, the door sliding closed behind him with a barely audible whisper.

Once he was gone, Mia Fey sighed to herself, tugging once on her snow-white Captain's tunic to smooth the wrinkles, and then sinking back into her relatively comfortable chair, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Really, she hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep in the past three days…

The buzzer sounded again, and she was fairly sure she knew who it was. "Come in," she called. The door slid open, proving her guess right. It was her First Officer, Commander Souryuu Kaminogi. Kaminogi was a tall, slim man with dark skin and a neatly trimmed black goatee that wasn't _quite_ regulation, but Mia let it slide. He was clad in the uniform that high-ranking male officers in the Fusegi Alliance were issued, with a neatly clasped white tunic with rank insignia over the left breast and black, cleanly pressed slacks below that. However, Mia always felt that the way Kaminogi wore it made it seem more like a dapper suit than a military uniform… but as to exactly why? Well, she'd never quite been able to place it.

He wasn't wearing the white officers' cap, though Mia didn't quite think it would have comfortably fit over his bushy black hair anyway. Still, she was admittedly glad that he didn't cut it, because it looked good on him.

"Souryuu," she said at last, "Do you think you could bring me a cup of coffee?" She'd been able to hide her fatigue from Phoenix, but Kaminogi was another story entirely. Mia was rarely able to conceal her feelings from her second-in-command even when they weren't involved with one another. Now? He could read her like a book, and it really wasn't worth the effort.

"Of course, Cap'n," he said with a little flourish, crossing to the far corner of her office and engaging the machine that would instantly brew a steaming pot of caffeinated goodness. He poured her a mug, and one for himself, then returned, setting the cup on her desk. Kaminogi went and sat in the seat Phoenix had vacated minutes before—though unlike Wright's formal posture, he was almost… _lounging_. "So," he said at last, taking a long smell of the fragrant black coffee and shaking his head. "…a spy?" Kaminogi indicated the small panel to her right with a tilt of his bushy black-haired head.

Mia took her cap off and placed it on the desk, rubbing at her temples and giving him a wan smile. "A spy. I just made absolutely sure that I hadn't been missing anything… and I hadn't. Nobody knew we were going to be covering the supply route by Hobbes except the crew of this ship. But the Federation was ready for us, ambushed us, and we barely made it out of there alive. We've got a traitor in the ranks, Souryuu."

"What makes you so sure that the leak was on this end?" the Commander pointed out, sipping his coffee. "We sent our course plans to HQ, the leak could've come from there."

The Captain shook her head, her long brown hair glinting in the light of her office as she did so. "You remember. We Jumped into Hobbes on the other side of the planet for them, saw them coming, and were able to scramble our own forces in time to fight them off. The crew knew where we were going, but not the exact Jump points. We sent those to HQ," Mia inclined her head, taking her own sip of the coffee and closing her eyes. "If they'd had our exact plans, they'd have been waiting for us and we wouldn't have been able to escape."

"Besides," there was a wry if thin smile on her face. "If the leak came from HQ, you're either saying that Admiral Grossberg's a traitor… or they've managed to crack the Badge Protocol. Forgive me for being optimistic, but I'd rather not think either of those were true." Mia sighed to herself. "Also, we just got a pulse transmission from Intelligence in response to our SOS. Apparently, they'd intercepted and decrypted a transmission from a source calling itself 'Agent Blue,' telling them that the _Kurain_ would be covering a supply run that went through the space around Hobbes. That's fairly damning evidence."

Kaminogi leaned back in the chair, resting one leg on the other. "Point. So, we've got a traitor. But, we were under communications blackout ever since we told the crew we were headed to Hobbes, and I checked the logs—there weren't any transmissions sent, personal or otherwise, since we went dark. Let alone any mentioning such a ridiculous codename—I'd remember that."

Mia paused, looking across the desk at her second-in-command, meeting his gaze with her own. "It's one of the pilots. They've had the only opportunities to send messages without us detecting them when they're out on patrol."

"One of your hunches?" Kaminogi arched a black eyebrow, a knowing grin on his face despite the gravity of the situation.

"I… think so, yes," nodded Mia.

"All right then, Cap'n. So… I doubt this 'Agent Blue' would be the type to let his pals blow him into space dust, so our three pilots that made it through the battle at Hobbes?" He looked down at the small pad he held in his hand, tapping in a few commands. "… Phoenix Wright, Redd White, or Larry Butz."

The Captain shook her head quickly. "It… it's not Wright. I don't think it's Butz either."

His eyebrow remained arched. "So you're saying that our traitor is Redd White, then? All right, I'll go down and have him placed in detention," Kaminogi moved like he was going to get up.

Mia's voice was sharp, "Souryuu," she said—and he sat back down, though the lopsided grin didn't really leave his face. "It's just one of my hunches. You should know better than anyone else… I'm not always right." She rubbed at her temple again, nursing a growing headache. "There's no evidence. I'm not going to throw one of my pilots in the brig and send him to court-martial based on a gut feeling, no matter _what_ my family name is."

She continued, "After this, I'll get the deck officer to pull his mech's communications records. There should be something to prove it in there… if he really is the one."

"No, you won't," though his face was more serious now, the grin was still in his voice. Mia paused, sort of puzzled at Kaminogi's proclamation. "You're exhausted, Cap'n. Get some rest. I'll take care of that."

Though she was unsuccessful in keeping the traces of annoyance off her face entirely, Mia had to admit that the proposal sounded quite wonderful. "All right, Souryuu, you can handle it," she acquiesced.

Changing the subject, she stood up, as did Kaminogi—though he merely went over to sit on the edge of her desk. He was taller than her, of course, so even that made them just equal in height. "I've been looking at our options for repairs," Mia began, resting a hand on the fake wood of her desk. "Whether or not they knew we were here beforehand, once that skiff gets back to the local sector authorities, they'll know we're here now. We've repaired the Jump drive as much as we can, but a long-range flight is out of the question."

"We need to find a nearby place to get back up to full, and we're running low on time," agreed Kaminogi, idly reaching out to play with a stray strand of her long brown hair as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "So, Cap'n Fey, what's your brilliant plan to save the day this time?"

"There's an abandoned Alliance base on Elli, one of the moons of Yggdrasil. They had to abandon it due to supply issues, but supplies aren't our problem. It's far away enough from the Federation outposts that we should be able to quietly Jump into the system and limp our way there…"

Kaminogi nodded slowly. "The latest intel said the Yggdrasil garrison was pretty short-manned anyway, so even if they do see us coming, we should be able to fight them off—we've got top-of-the-line ships, four combat-ready pilots,"

Mia cut him off with a glare. "Three, Souryuu. Don't you even _think_ about it. Besides, she's not certified with any of the suits we've got on board."

He grinned at her softly, deflecting her momentary ire with a lopsided smile. "All right then, three. My point still stands. So, we head to Yggdrasil, land on Elli, repair and then burn dust back to Persephone?"

She answered in the affirmative, nodding. "That's the plan. I won't be telling the crew, either—until we find the traitor once and for all, I can't risk another ambush."

The captain of the _Kurain_ closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, there was a melancholy look on her attractive face, and a wistfulness in her gaze. "Souryuu," she said softly. "I have a bad feeling about this."

The entire time, he'd not stopped playing with her hair. "Don't you worry your pretty little head," Kaminogi said with a chuckle before he stood up off her desk, gave her the most casual salute possible, and turned to leave. "Like you said, you're not always right. Go get some rest, Cap'n. I'll go talk to White—it's about time for his patrol to start, anyway."

Once the door had slid shut behind him, Captain Mia Fey sat back in her chair, closing her eyes with a sigh.

-------

Commander Souryuu Kaminogi encountered the pilot in the hallway right before the hangar itself. The older man—Kaminogi often felt he had no business in a pilots' chair, but they took what they could get—was already dressed up in his flightsuit, and was about to enter the hangar. "White."

Redd White turned, and seeing Kaminogi, threw a sloppy, half-hearted salute. "Ahh, Mr. First Officer. How can I be of helpsistance to you today?" Kaminogi mentally winced… ah yes, there was a reason he disliked talking to White, and it wasn't the man's incredibly _pink_ jumpsuit, or the almost-certainly-fake glittering jewelry he wore _over_ the damn thing. No, his attitude and vocabulary were a task in and of themselves to put up with.

"White. The Captain wants to see your mech's communication logs. Hope you _don't mind_," said the Commander, sipping the mug of coffee he still held with him. "So… think we could do that about now-ish?" Though he was watching White very closely for any sign of a nervous reaction, he got nothing—which was, admittedly, a bit puzzling.

The older pilot smiled broadly, scratching his lavender hair with a gloved hand—his jewelry sparkling in the hallway lights. "I'm terribly remorsagetic, Commander, but I'm quite afraid that 'Jewel' has a problem with the, ah, remembrific core. Transmissions simply can't be recordified, you see. So that's quite out of the question."

Kaminogi was silent as he sipped his coffee, his dark eyes searching Redd's grinning face for any sign that he was lying or otherwise trying to hide the truth—but there was nothing. "I see," he said at last, simply. Without any further conversation, he strode quickly past White into the hangar bay, and called out for the officer on duty. "Deck Officer," he said loudly, though lowered his voice once the blue-suited man came into reasonable speaking range. "Pilot White here tells me that his mech has a problem with the memory core?"

With a nod, the Deck Officer responded, "That's correct, Commander Kaminogi, sir. 'Jewel' is an older model, and White brought it with him when he was attached to the _Kurain_. It's actually a bit of an irregularity, sir—we've tried to fix it several times, but haven't been able to. Apologies, sir, but that's just how it is."

"I see," Kaminogi said again at last. "Well, then, Deck Officer, Pilot… sorry to occupy your time. Go back to… whatever it is you were doing," said the dark-skinned officer, walking away from the pair, a frown on his face. Redd's story checked out… but it was _awfully_ coincidental. However, it didn't look like they had any way around it yet…

-------

Once he was out in space, clear of the asteroid field—the _Kurain_ was no longer visible amidst the myriad clusters of floating rock—Redd White exhaled the sigh he'd been holding in ever since he'd seen Commander Kaminogi approaching him down the corridor. "APRIL," he said at last to his AI, "code an encryptified pulse transmission…"

The bug he'd planted in the Captain's office had told him all he'd needed to know. Captain Fey and Commander Kaminogi… they didn't have any proof, but they were onto him. For Redd White, also known as 'Agent Blue,' a man who had long profited from selling information to both sides of the conflict…? Well, being caught would certainly be bad for business, and significantly worse for his quality of life.

It was unfortunate, it really was. He'd almost begun to like Captain Fey in his own way, but he couldn't afford her on his trail any longer… because she was clever, and sooner or later, she'd find the piece of evidence to nail him for good… even someone as brilliant and professional as he was couldn't hide for long.

The AI chirped an acknowledgement, indicating that the encryption was ready and awaiting his command. "This is Agent Blue," began the information broker. "I am in possessification of some interesting newsformation regarding the _ARS Kurain_. I suggest that the Federation garrison at Yggdrasil pay close watchention to what I have to say…"

**Continued…**


	3. The Ties That Bind, Chapter 2

The giant behemoth continues!

Uh… really, not much to say here. I hope everyone's enjoying the crazy product of my (and others'!) mind… and enjoying seeing the characters we know and love in a completely different universe.

If so—or if not—please read and leave your comments. Comments nourish my soul :D

Yeah, I really don't know what to say. Um… well, we're on the verge of our first BIG EXPLOSIONS YAY battle. So that's pretty awesome.

Enjoy!

**The Ties That Bind**

**Chapter Two**

_June 19, 4010_

_Calypso_

Time passed, as it tended to do. The little boy who waited on the corner near his house every day grew taller, grew older, and there was a day where even he stopped waiting. The boy became a teenager, and found that the trials and tribulations of everyday life were slowly becoming more important to him than what lay among the stars.

Of course, in times of war, the two are not mutually exclusive. And as a young man of eighteen years old, there were nights when Phoenix Wright still found his gaze wandering up to the star-strewn sky…

-----

"Hey, Nick, pass me one of the red ones, would you?"

Larry Butz sat up in the deck chair he'd been reclining in, stretched (accompanied by an over-exaggerated yawn), and then returned to his prone, relaxed position, pushing the shaded glasses he was wearing further up along his nose. Next to him, seated in a similar chair, Phoenix Wright reached into the portable refrigeration unit they'd hauled up to Larry's house's roof, grabbed an ice-cold can of whatever cheap alcohol Larry'd decided to try _this_ time, and tossed it over to his friend.

Phoenix sighed, lying back on the chair and holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun almost directly overhead. The two of them had just completed their government-mandated education a month ago, and were free to pursue their dreams. Forge their own futures, explore a sea of endless possibility, and all that jazz. So naturally, Larry and Phoenix had spent the past two weeks doing absolutely nothing but sit on the flat roof of Larry's house, looking up at the sun and the endless blue sky.

His excitable blond friend had thrown his shirt off to the side, exposing his skinny, gangly torso to the sun ("I gotta get a tan for the ladies, Nick!"). Phoenix, though, kept his clothes on, though his loose white shirt and cool blue shorts weren't exactly formal attire. As Odyssey (and therefore Calypso) were a bit farther from the system's sun than some of the other planets, it was normally quite cool on the large moon… but in the summer, it got as hot as it did almost anywhere else.

The spiky-haired young man looked up at the vast blue field above and sighed again. Sure, this was relaxing and enjoyable, but… he didn't finish the thought in his head, because for some reason, he _couldn't_. Something was needling him, something had been needling him for months, but he still couldn't put his finger on it.

There was a sound suddenly on the wind, a distant, far-off rumble that steadily grew louder. Slightly curious, Phoenix sat up and looked in the direction of the sound—down the large road that passed in front of Larry's house. It sounded like a vehicle, and sure enough, there was a cloud of dust in the distance that was almost certainly the wake of some sort of repulsor craft.

Slowly but surely, the cloud of dust resolved itself into one of the big, blocky troop transports that they'd called 'lunchboxes,' once upon a time. Phoenix shook his head, sighed a third time, and sank back into the deck chair. "I can't believe they're still staffing the base," he said with a shrug. The airbase—pretty much the Federation's last remaining hold in this region on Calypso—was a ways down the road, so the troops from the barracks often passed this way. Recently, the transports had been coming less and less frequently as it became crystal clear exactly which way the popular opinion leaned in the war.

Though it were only a matter of time before the Fusegi Alliance liberated the moon entirely, the troop carriers continued to come nonetheless.

Beside him, Larry sat up, took a sip of his beer and peered over his sunglasses at the approaching transport. He seemed to be thinking about something, and when he turned to Phoenix with that all-too-familiar look in his eyes, that suspicion was confirmed. His excitable friend stroked the stray hairs on his chin that were the beginning of what he claimed would end up being an 'awesome goatee' ("I gotta grow a beard for the ladies, Nick!").

"Whatever you're thinking, leave me out of it," Phoenix said, shaking his head.

Larry didn't look deterred. "Well, I was just thinking… it's summer, right? So they've got the roof open for ventilation, right? I was thinking that maybe I should go piss on 'em when they pass."

Phoenix looked at him, raising a black eyebrow—really, it said something about the average quality of Larry's plans that suggesting he go urinate on a truckload of trained soldiers didn't actually seem _all that bad_ in comparison—but said nothing. Finally, with a frown, Larry crossed his arms in front of his chest and went back to sitting and drinking his beer. "You're no fun," he muttered.

Despite having dismissed his friend's apocalyptically bad idea, Phoenix did admit that his friend had raised an interesting point—the roof would be open for ventilation. Though it was really just a morbid curiosity, Phoenix found himself walking to the edge of the roof, looking down at the street below and waiting for the transport to pass. He wondered what he expected the Federation troops and pilots to look like, but nothing came to mind.

The troop carrier approached, and passed. The young man looked down at the soldiers in uniform sitting side-by-side in the vehicle… older, younger, all clad in identical military attire. Phoenix didn't really know what he'd been expecting, but clearly that wasn't it. He shook his head and started to return to his seat.

…wait.

Phoenix froze, having seen a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. Though he was nine years taller and more grown-up… though his hair was longer, tied back in a short ponytail… though he was wearing a Saiban Federation officer's uniform... the young officer seemed to be looking up at him, and their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before the 'lunchbox' continued on its way, its passengers hidden from sight.

It couldn't be.

The young man practically leapt off the roof onto the top of the porch below. The sun-baked tiles were blazing hot against his bare feet, though Phoenix didn't notice in his haste to reach the road below—but by the time he made it all the way down, the troop carrier was in the distance and only getting farther.

It _couldn't_ be.

It had been nine years since they'd last met, his appearance had changed drastically, and Phoenix had only seen him for a split second—but somehow, he _knew_ that the young soldier had been Miles Edgeworth.

"Nick! Nick…! What's up, Nick?!" Larry had taken the less-frantic route down through the house, though his shortness of breath demonstrated that he'd been hurrying too. "Dude, why'd you just flip out like that? …your face is white, man. What's up?"

_It couldn't be_.

At long last, Phoenix Wright found his voice. "…Edgeworth," he managed. "I saw Edgeworth."

Larry looked stunned, and then confused-if-skeptical. "Wait, in the Fed transport? You saw _Edgey?!_ You're crazy. You must've seen wrong, Nick."

Phoenix shook his head emphatically, his hands balling into fists. "I'm _positive_. It was him. It was Edgeworth."

"But… even if it _was_ him,"

"It was," interjected Phoenix.

"Why would he be with the Feds? It's _Edgey_, remember? His father grew up fightin' against them! That's not the Edgey we know! Why would he join up with them?"

Phoenix didn't have an answer for that, and admitted so. "I… I don't know," he said with a shrug. _Could I have… could I really have seen wrong?_

_No. That was Miles Edgeworth. I'm _sure_ of it._

"…but I'm going to find out."

_November 4__th__, 4016, 0805 Ship's Time_

_In orbit around Muspel_

They were heading out in just under an hour; Phoenix hadn't been told where… but he trusted Captain Fey and Commander Kaminogi to make the right choice. That's why she was the Captain, after all. He was last on patrol duty… but there was nothing coming. Phoenix Wright sat in the cockpit of his mech, surrounded by absolute silence and an infinity of stars in every direction.

…except for right in front of him, where the view was dominated by the giant scarlet orb of Muspel. The planet had its own legends and superstitions, but also its share of facts. A year ago, a flight group of eight Alliance mechs—not AI, mass-produced models either, but high-class models flown by skilled pilots—had been shot down in the atmosphere of the gas giant… at the hands of a single Federation soldier. That pilot's name—now legendary in some circles—had been Miles Edgeworth.

Edgeworth had been here, a year ago. Just like Edgeworth had been in that troop transport six years ago.

Phoenix was getting closer. Slowly, he was getting closer… and he knew that it would only be a matter of time until he met Miles Edgeworth once more.

-----

_November 4__th__, 4016, 1723 Ship's Time_

_Yggdrasil _

Though not as massive as its Sunward sibling, the second largest planet in the system was certainly an epic sight to behold in its own right. Whereas Muspel was a dark, bloody crimson almost uniform in hue, Yggdrasil was a sunburst of colors, its atmosphere comprised of multiple colorful bands. There was yellow, there was orange, there was red and black and a thousand different shades thereof within.

The large gas giant was encircled by a shimmering wreath, a wide yet thin golden band that glinted in the reflected sunlight off its parent planet. There were those who compared Yggdrasil's ring to a regal circlet—it was the king and the god of the system, orbiting the sun just beyond the blood-red hell that was Muspel.

There were dozens of planetoids in orbit beyond the golden crown of Yggdrasil that ranged in size from considerably large—a small planet, by some standards—to barely more than a glorified asteroid. There had been poets that had compared the planet's many moons to the courtiers of a king paying service to their liege.

In the empty space beyond the moons, there was suddenly a brief, brilliant spark of light. Within a heartbeat, a large military-white starship popped into existence where there had previously been nothing but vacuum. While poets might have been able to dream up florid, beautiful verse to describe the king of the solar system and its moons, the _Kurain_ and her crew were there for a far more mundane reason.

Mia Fey sat in the large Captain's chair at the rear of her ship's bridge, her gaze fixed on the viewscreen that was the front wall of the medium-sized, rectangular room as the multi-colored orb of Yggdrasil came into view. She absentmindedly chewed on her bottom lip, the restless feeling deep within her breast suddenly growing more acute. Mia shook her head ever-so-softly, taking a deep breath and suppressing the uncertainty.

Yes, she was a Fey, so people put more stock in her hunches and gut feelings than they would other peoples'… but she wasn't always right. Though this particular case of the butterflies could be signifying something truly disastrous, there was always the possibility that it was simply residual anxiety from narrowly escaping the ambush at Hobbes. Besides, even if the restlessness were a sign? Well, Mia could make sure that she was prepared to handle whatever came up—that was one of the advantages of her hunches, after all.

Right now, though, people were counting on her, and there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary—so Mia firmly put those feelings to the very back of her mind, sitting up straight in her chair and glancing briefly at Commander Kaminogi who was standing directly to her right. "Helm," she said at last, "take us counter-spin. We'll be landing on Elli." Mia tapped in a few commands on the datapanel built into her chair's armrest, highlighting one of the moons on the viewscreen ahead.

The gray, barren Elli was on the smaller side as far as moons went, but it wasn't _too_ tiny. Years ago, the Alliance had constructed an outpost deep within the moon's center, but had abandoned it due to operational difficulties. While maintaining a full-time outpost was infeasible, it was still concealed from enemy knowledge and in working order, so it wasn't all that uncommon for Fusegi craft to use it as a hideaway in an emergency. As of three weeks ago, it had still been functioning perfectly fine… so it was their best bet.

"Aye, Captain," said the young man who was the ship's helmsman. As he put the giant warship through its maneuvers, the scene on the viewscreen changed with their new course (and the stars visible overhead through the transparent metal skylights shifted as well).

For a few long heartbeats, there was no sound on the bridge other than the normal hum of equipment. Nobody spoke—the pilot was good and knew that there was a Federation colony and military base orbiting the gas giant, so he flew in such a way to minimize the risk of being seen without Mia having to tell him.

Still, the restlessness within her breast had returned, and to Captain Mia Fey, the silence felt… pregnant. Almost as if it was waiting for something to happen.

"Captain," came the voice of her sensor officer—she was the newest member of the bridge crew, the most inexperienced, and Mia could immediately sense the anxiety in her words. "We… we have enemy contacts approaching from 68 Mark 19. Approximately eight—no, twelve. They're coming straight for us, sir! ETA, ten minutes and twenty seconds."

_An ambush?_

For a brief moment, Mia could feel the eyes of the entire bridge crew on her—she was the Captain, after all. Though she could feel her pulse begin to quicken, the restlessness she had been feeling was subsiding just as fast. _This_ was the threat she'd been worried about… and she could deal with it. She kept a calm exterior as she adjusted the white cap on her head. "What models?"

The sensor officer responded after a moment of querying her instruments. "An even split, six GS-139B _Perseus_-class interceptors, six GS-325 _Bastilla_-class assault craft. No modifications that we can detect."

Next to her, Mia could hear Kaminogi mutter, under his breath, "They must be on the short end of the supply list… those _Bastillas_ should be in a museum, not in combat." She looked up at him with the briefest of chiding glares—yes, they were older models, but they were known for being superb bombers, capable of delivering devastating blows to larger, less mobile targets. Which, incidentally enough, was exactly what the _Kurain_ happened to be.

Still, her First Officer had a point. The _Bastilla_-class ships were bordering on antique, and even the _Perseus_ interceptors had seen a long run. Meanwhile, two of her operational ships were state-of-the-art models, and to deny the advantage that gave them would be folly.

"Hold our present course," Mia said at last to the helmsman. Looking over at the other crew on the bridge, she continued, "Bring us to red alert, all crew to their stations." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Scramble our fighters."

There was the slightest of pauses after her orders were given—and then the bridge became a hive of activity once more as the crew moved to carry them out. The familiar drone of the warning klaxon began to whine, issuing the red alert with its plaintive peals.

Beside her, there was a slight movement—and Mia looked to her right and up to see Kaminogi looking down at her, an inquisitive expression on his face. "Sure you want to launch all three, Cap'n?"

Mia closed her eyes in thought. If Redd White had truly been the traitor, he might well have realized they were onto him after Kaminogi had confronted him about his transmission logs. Sending him into battle, then, might well be a deadly mistake. However… something nagged at Mia that she still couldn't place, even after the restlessness had mostly gone. Nobody on the _Kurain_ had known their destination, but for an ambush to still be lying in wait? As much as she didn't want to believe it, the possibility that the Saiban Federation had cracked one of the most important encryptions used by the Alliance now seemed very real.

"I don't like two-on-twelve odds, Souryuu," Mia said quietly, her eyes moving back to the viewscreen.

Kaminogi shrugged slightly, keeping his voice low so that nobody else on the bridge could overhear. "Didn't Wright take out a quartet of _Perseus_ interceptors within seconds just yesterday? Who's to say he can't do that again?"

The Captain kept her voice soft in reply, still not looking up at the black-haired officer. "An ambush is different from a straight-on assault. Fighting twelve enemies at once is different from fighting four."

"We _do_ have another certified pilot on board."

Someone watching her closely might have been able to see her muscles tense as she turned to glare at Commander Kaminogi. "Souryuu," her voice was firm. "She's finished training, but she's never actually been _in a real battle_. Besides, she's not certified with any of the mecha we have in flight condition." Though her reasons were sound and logical, there was a part of Mia Fey that was forced to admit, deep in her heart… she simply couldn't bring herself to order her little sister into combat.

If there was one thing a Captain could absolutely not do, it was to not make a choice. Either way, people could die… but to do nothing meant that it'd be even more certain.

Though her voice remained quiet, the tone was firm and resolute. "Scramble all three. That's an order."

Captain Mia Fey sat back in her chair, eyes firmly glued to the viewscreen as she waited to see exactly how things would play out from here.

-----

Though there were other crewmembers rushing to their own battle stations, Phoenix didn't pay any attention to them as he jogged down the red-tinted hallway. He'd quickly donned his flight suit as soon as the scramble order had been given, and made sure his gloves were on and perfectly sealed as he ran. There wasn't any time to think about anything else right now—his hands moved on autopilot as his legs carried him to the hangar where his ship awaited its pilot.

The hangar itself was quite bustling with technicians running to and fro, making sure that everything was ready and in order for the battle to come. With the rumble of heavy machinery, Redd's "Jewel" was already being ferried to the elevator that would take it down to the launch catapult. High above the hangar floor, he saw Larry, clad in bright orange flightsuit, about to enter his similarly bright orange "Rodin." His wingman noticed him as well, gave him an exuberant thumbs-up, and then stepped inside the giant humanoid mech.

Phoenix began the jog up to the pilot's scaffolding when the deep voice of the Deck Officer rang out through the hubbub. "Wright," he called—the young pilot paused, turning to look at the head coordinator as he approached. "Just wanted to let you know, the mechanic you requested came by to check out your ship, and everything seemed to be fine."

_What?_

"I… didn't request any mechanics," responded Phoenix, feeling a bit uneasy at the news. Hadn't he, in fact, explicitly told Captain Fey he _didn't_ want anyone checking out his "Huma"?

It was the Deck Officer's turn to look puzzled, and he went to reference the infopad he carried with him, tapping in a few commands before looking back up at Wright. "No, I have the request right here. Signed by the Captain and everything. Says the mechanic was… well, she signed her name as Satoko Mukui. Pretty girl, with red hair, braids…" he trailed off, clearly understanding Phoenix's perplexed look for what it was. "You don't know her?"

He was about to respond that he didn't know who the man was talking about out of pure reflex—but then halted before he said a word, his eyes widening. _It couldn't be…_her_, could it?_

This was wasting too much time, and time was, right now, an extremely rare commodity. "Y-yeah," Phoenix lied at last. "I requested it... there's no problem. Thanks for letting me know, sir." With that, he turned to run up the metal stairs that took him to the pilot's scaffolding, his boots making a loud 'clang' with each step.

_Her? Why would she… why now?_

The "Huma's" cockpit door was open as he'd left it—but for some reason, it made Phoenix feel uneasy this time around. Still, he couldn't afford to waste time on ghosts of the past right now, not when there were some particularly nasty specters of the present howling at his front door. Phoenix sat down in the large pilot's chair, reached down to where he'd stowed his helmet and prepared to bring it down over his head—but paused. "RYUUICHI," he said at last to his AI. "A mechanic came by earlier today. What changes or… 'fixes' did she do to the ship?"

As the powerful construct started to query its databanks, Phoenix pulled the helmet over his head and engaged the seals that would make it air-tight with the rest of his flightsuit. Within moments he could feel the soft breeze that was the suit's air recirculation system, and the mostly-opaque helmet suddenly became completely transparent, allowing him perfectly unhindered vision no matter the direction. The young pilot keyed in the commands to begin the launch process, and the cockpit door in front of him slowly began to close—slamming shut and sealing with a 'hiss' of air.

Phoenix had just strapped himself securely into his chair and begun his quick pre-launch checklist with the AI responded, "Lieutenant Wright, the mechanic did not make any changes to the ship whatsoever."

That had _not_ been the answer he'd expected, and the black-haired young man blinked to himself in bewilderment. "You're sure?" It was a stupid question and he knew it—there was no way for the AI to be _unsure_ of its answer. "Nevermind," he said, shaking his head. Beneath him, he could feel the giant mech shake and rumble as the magnet lifts grabbed it, guiding it towards the large hangar elevator.

_She didn't do anything at all? …what was she up to?_ Phoenix wondered to himself with a frown, the face of the red-haired girl with the braids fresh in his mind.

Still, if RYUUICHI had said she hadn't done anything to his ship, then she hadn't done anything to his ship—and it wasn't something he should be concerning himself with right now, anyway. As if to punctuate his train of thought, there was a sudden pop right by his ear as someone opened a communication channel with him.

He knew who it was, of course. "Hey, Maya," he said, a sort of warm familiarity flooding his body after the cold chill of uncertainty he'd just been feeling had passed. "Going to watch my back out there today?"

"You know it," she chirped on the other end of the line—somewhere in the ship's communications center, he guessed. He could envision the smile on her face as she spoke. "Charley and me are gonna make sure you don't get fried out there."

"Charley?" Though she couldn't see him and the expression was pointless, Phoenix raised a black eyebrow inquisitively anyway. "…you mean the Captain's plant?" _What's she doing with her sister's potted plant in the communications center?_ The sideways movement stopped abruptly as his craft reached the elevator—and then he could feel the lift beginning to descend.

Phoenix touched a series of controls on the main console, and the multiple viewscreens around the cockpit that provided a complete 180-degree view of his surroundings flared to life, along with the little 3-D holographic globe hovering just below his natural line of sight. It was a globe with a small dot representing him at the center, and it would show the position of friends and foes around him while in combat.

The viewscreens didn't display anything but uniform gray walls as the elevator descended, but Phoenix knew the view would soon change. He could feel his heart beginning to pound as it always did, but tried to take a few deep, calming breaths of the stale air in his suit, listening to Maya's response. "Well… Sis thought that Charley'd been looking down lately, so she asked me to take care of him for a while to cheer him up!"

Shaking his head, the young pilot chuckled to himself briefly. Granted, if there was anybody who _could_ cheer up a potted plant, it'd be Maya Fey, but still… "Well, as long as Charley pulls his weight today, I'll be fine with it."

"Oh, don't worry, Nick. I know you're going to do great out there. And I'll watch your back!"

Despite his racing pulse, a smile nonetheless found its way onto his face. "You usually do."

The elevator began to slow, and Phoenix could see the long, straight tunnel that was the launch catapult in front of him, with a few twinkling stars visible at the far end—out into space.

The Heads-Up Display on the main viewscreen suddenly gained a column of small colored bars representing different stages of the launch sequence. They were all red at the start, but rapidly, one by one, turned green. "This is Lieutenant Phoenix Wright," he began, keying his other channel to the launch command. "Beginning final sequence."

Phoenix's hands flew over the main console, flicking a switch here, tapping a button there in the familiar pre-flight sequence, a different bar changing color with every action. Finally, what had been uniform red was now completely green, and the column was replaced by a series of four lights representing the catapult's countdown to launch. The young pilot reached up with his right hand to slightly above head level, almost casually flipping a bright red handle.

Behind his ship, there was a spark and then a faint glow that began to increase in radiance fairly rapidly. The light began to almost 'solidify,' turning into six distinct glimmering scarlet 'wings.' On the viewscreen, the first light lit up.

"Hey Nick?" Maya's voice wavered slightly, barely enough to notice.

The second light lit up. "Yes?" he responded, attempting to keep his own breathing and pounding heartbeat in check.

Maya paused before speaking, and the third light brightened. "…be careful out there, okay?"

Before Phoenix could respond, the fourth light lit. The sudden acceleration made it hard to breathe as the catapult sent him hurtling along the launch tunnel and his thrusters flared to life with a powerful rumble, propelling him out into the cold vacuum of space.

**Continued…**


	4. The Ties That Bind, Chapter 3

The _EPIC SAGA_ continues! With this, we're about to get out of the intro and into the real meat of the story. Introduce a few characters that I think people have been waiting to see (or not, what do I know:P), and make our way into the main plot. I'm looking forward to it, hoping that everyone else is, too!

This time—the first _action-packed_ chapter! Captain Fey and the crew of the _Kurain_, in dire need of repairs, have decided to try one final gambit… unfortunately for them, the enemy seemed to be expecting them, and has come out to play. Can Phoenix Wright and his fellow pilots save the day? And what of Redd White's treachery—the mysterious "Agent Blue?" Will Mia's premonition come to pass?

Really, there's only one way to find out…

As always, thanks to the completely awesome GyakuMECH team—the ones in the background who don't get _nearly_ enough credit. You guys… artists, contributors, whatever… you're all awesome. Seriously.

Please read and leave a comment or two! If not for me, for the dozen or so awesome possums working on this behemoth behind the scenes.

Enjoy the story!

**The Ties That Bind**

**Chapter Three**

_November 4, 4016, 1729 Ship's Time_

_Yggdrasil_

Even though the years of training he'd been through had conditioned him to be as natural in the cockpit of his massive war machine as he was anywhere else, there was a surprisingly vocal part of Phoenix Wright's mind that was very aware of the cold, deadly vacuum of space around him. Still, his hands moved almost on their own, carrying out the necessary tasks that would help keep him alive in combat.

He reached up above his head to twist a familiar red dial, and in his mind's eye could see the six crimson plasma jets flaring up brightly behind his ship—six deadly wings that were part of the reason the 'Huma' had its name. Though Phoenix didn't engage any of the craft's other weaponry yet, a quick skim of the diagnostics told him they were all in working order.

"Hey, Nick!" the cheerful voice of Larry Butz—his friend and usual wingman—popped in through the comm system in his helmet. "Glad you could make it to the party! I didn't know if there was gonna be enough cake left for you, man!"

Phoenix sighed, quickly tapped the comm button on the display, and reminded his friend, "Not exactly the best time for jokes, Larry." The young pilot looked up at the viewscreens surrounding him in the cockpit to get a feel for the situation. Though the view was dominated by the spectacular mottled orange globe in the background, and he couldn't quite make visual contact with the enemy ships yet, it never hurt to assess one's surroundings.

He could see Larry's ship—a bright orange speck in the star-filled infinity—up above him and slightly to the right, while Redd White's 'Jewel' hung suspended in the sky a ways to his left. The three mecha and their large white mothership were rapidly approaching a large asteroid (or small moon), a lumpy gray rock that seemed to be about ten or so miles in diameter.

As if she were reading his mind, the voice of Captain Fey crackled in his helmet just then. "We'll be heading for that small moon over there," she said—it was reassuring to hear her voice, knowing that there was at least _someone_ with a plan out there. She was the Captain, she knew what she was doing. "It'll take them longer to go around it and reach us. You three guard these different vectors," a holographic display of the moon popped up in the middle of the cockpit, with three large swashes designated with different colors—pink, red, and orange. "Adjust as necessary. Keep the bombers out of range and we'll all go home in one piece."

"Gotcha."

"Affirmanitely."

Hearing his fellow pilots' responses, Phoenix keyed his own system. "Understood," he replied. The young pilot could feel his heart pounding beneath his flightsuit, and was glad that his suit's gloves had grip padding to counter the sweat he could feel on his palms. He swallowed and pushed that doubt to the side—the Captain, and Maya, and everyone else on the _Kurain_… they were counting on them. He couldn't let them down.

He angled the craft down to his assigned vector, and then tapped his comm again. "Maya," he began. "Think you can get me the specs on the models we're facing?"

Maya's voice sounded a bit tinny in his headset. "Sure, Nick!" she chirped a response, that eternal optimism palpable as always. "Just hang on a minute…" he could imagine her fingers flying across her keyboard like his fingers dashed across the controls. "Transmitting now, Nick." The HUD on his front viewscreen lit up like a light show, lines and lines of data scrolling past just slow enough for his eyes to take it in.

He'd fought _Perseus_ interceptors before, so he skimmed past that part—energy sword, light particle cannon… nothing he didn't know. But the _Bastilla_-class ships were new to him, and the unfamiliar made him uncomfortable. Phoenix's blue eyes flitted back and forth over the lines of text on his screen as quickly as he could read it. They were older ships… they'd been in service over fifty years, which actually made them more than twenty years older than the war itself.

_Antiques indeed…_ Nevertheless, Phoenix knew that their weaponry could very well be problematic. Most of them nowadays carried a heavy version of the particle gun the _Perseus_ mecha had, and were capable of carrying six missile pods apiece, ten rockets to a pod. _Assuming that they're not operating at full strength could be a fatal mistake, Wright. Plan for the worst, hope for the best_. He could hear Mia's voice clearly in his mind lecturing him, though he couldn't remember if it was actually something she'd told him or just something he thought she'd say.

Six bombers, six pods, ten missiles—the _Kurain_ couldn't survive three hundred and sixty missiles, especially not in such a damaged state. That wasn't even taking into account the heavy cannon, either… while such weapons were pretty much useless against nimble, swift interceptor mecha (roughly akin to trying to kill a gnat with an ancient powder cannon), against a larger target they could be devastating. Still, a good pilot in a good mech could make short work of the bombers…

Phoenix hit the comm again, this time broadcasting to his fellow pilots—he was the highest rank amongst them, which sort of made him their de facto Flight Leader. "Bombers are our first priority. Don't do anything stupid… Larry, I'm talking to you."

His friend sounded indignant, and Phoenix supposed he had good reason—then again, his own reasons were plenty sound enough. "Hey! What's _that_ supposed to mean, Nick?!"

"Don't do anything stupid," the pilot repeated, shaking his head, and then paused for a moment before continuing. "Unless you have to." Phoenix hoped that maybe the muse of reckless, unorthodox, and _possibly_-intentional genius would visit his friend today as it sometimes did, but that wasn't something you could count on.

_Unless we have to_. There were over a thousand lives on the large white ship they'd left behind, and only three of them out here. It was unquestionably worth it to sacrifice one to save all those others… but Phoenix hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. He hoped that nobody would have to die. _How can you make that choice, anyway?_

The speaker in his helmet crackled.

-----

"They're splitting into two groups of six, and it looks like they're heading around opposite sides of the moon—one to Lieutenant Wright's vector, one to Pilot White's vector," her sensor officer said, the anxiety in her voice evident despite any attempt to keep her tone steady.

Mia, on the other hand, managed to keep her tone perfectly even. "What classes are going where?" Her eyes remained fixed on the large display in front of her showing the current scenario, even as she subconsciously reached up to adjust her cap.

The officer paused, and then shook her head. "I can't read, sir. Either there's something in the composition of the moon that interferes with our sensors… or they've just started a low-level jam."

"So they definitely knew we were coming," murmured Souryuu Kaminogi from his place at Mia's side, taking a sip from the mug of coffee he held in his hand.

Further down in the room, the young pilot of the _Kurain_ looked up and turned in his seat to look back at his captain. There was fear evident in his face, too, but to his credit his voice was even. "Captain Fey, sir, there are still ten minutes before we hit Elli's mass shadow, we can still Jump out of here."

Kaminogi's voice was louder this time as he addressed the pilot. "Use your head, crewman. With the damage we took at Hobbes… unless we can carry out proper repairs, we've probably only got a micro-Jump or two left before the core gives out completely. It's a _long_ flight back through Fed space to get back to Persephone, and I'm not too optimistic about our chances there."

"The Commander is right," Mia said, her voice as strong as she could muster (though she shot a stern glare up at her First Officer for his tone). "We're not running until there's no choice left—at least, not running like that, anyway. Get the crews to their guns, but don't waste power on them yet."

The crew looked at her with varying expressions of befuddlement on their face. "Have you ever tried to shoot down a mech with a big shipboard cannon before?" Kaminogi said at last almost casually. "It's a bit like trying to cut hair with a machete—it's sloppy, it probably won't work, and either way the results won't be pretty."

Mia nodded, biting her lower lip softly as another twinge of anxiety—possibly forewarning, though she hoped not—hit her. She looked at the display on the main screen, with the two groups of enemy forces (composition yet unknown). One of them was headed almost straight down the middle of Redd White's vector, while the other seemed to be heading close to the intersection of Larry Butz and Phoenix Wright's assigned zones.

Since he shouldn't have known their destination, that made it unlikely for White to be the traitor after all… yet a queasiness in her stomach told her that this wasn't just a coincidence.

Either way, though, there was no way for Wright or Butz to make it around in time, and so she had to make the only choice she could. "Open a channel to our pilots," Mia commanded, standing up from her Captain's chair. The communications officer looked at her and nodded, indicating the channel had been opened. "Lieutenant Wright, Pilot Butz… there's one group of enemies passing nearby at the vector indicated on your display. Pilot White, there's another group passing at the vector indicated on _your_ display. Six ships in each, class makeup yet unknown."

She swallowed, hoping it wasn't visible to any of the crew in the main pit of the bridge. "Be careful, and good luck."

-----

"White, watch your back," Phoenix could feel a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. "Just try and hold them off until Larry and I can get to you. Play it safe."

"Oh, you needn't have such concernavations, Wright! I'm quite convindent that I'll be absofactly fine." The pilot laughed into his comm before closing the transmission. Phoenix blinked, and for a brief moment suddenly felt rather uneasy. White's voice hadn't sounded like that of a man facing possible death, even one as flashy and gaudy as him.

That was odd. Perhaps he'd simply been misjudging the extent of the man's flamboyance, though?

There wasn't enough time to concern himself with it right now, though. "RYUUICHI," he said, taking a deep breath and swallowing down the stale air of his flightsuit. "What's our ETA to contact?"

"Just over two… minutes," responded the AI, a slight but noticeable waver in its electronic voice.

…That was odd, too. Not only had RYUUICHI's speech faltered for a second, but the normally formal tone was missing. AIs that changed personality traits in combat weren't unheard of, of course, but his construct hadn't shown anything like that in the months they'd been together.

"RYUUICHI, is something wrong?"

"Negative, Lieutenant Wright. All circuits functioning properly." The AI's voice was normal, and Phoenix allowed the possibility that it'd just been a hiccup in the system.

A bright orange speck in the distance suddenly resolved itself into the figure of Larry's 'Rodin,' rapidly approaching their rendezvous point. "So, Nick, did I miss the party?"

"A few guests haven't quite arrived yet," replied the young pilot, reflexively wishing he could run his hand through his dark, spiky hair. Still, though he could still feel his heart pounding in his chest, it was comforting to know that Larry was there at his side as usual, and Maya was watching over him back in safety on the _Kurain_.

…no, it wasn't safety. Not unless they stopped the adversary here. Phoenix set his jaw inside his helmet, nodding to nobody in particular—he could do this. They could do this. "Glad you're with me, Larry," he admitted over their own two-way comm.

"Aw, Nick, you're gonna make me blush!" Normally, that would have easily been sarcasm on anyone else… but with the excitable Larry, there was always the possibility that he was actually telling the truth.

A minute left until contact. The enemy should be visible any second now… and there they were. Six white specks against the black of space, growing steadily larger—suddenly, there were other specks of light joining them, dots of red that elongated and became streaks of energy.

Those same beams lost their cohesion and faded to nothingness long before they reached the two pilots. "Man, what're they thinking? They're _waaaay_ out of range… man, these guys must be morons!" Larry's voice echoed Phoenix's thoughts. Firing like this was a pointless waste of power cells… it wouldn't even reach them, and even if it would, they could easily dodge it.

_What are they trying to do?_

"Besides, mine's bigger." Phoenix glanced over at his friend's mech—the bright orange 'Rodin' had unsheathed its primary weapon, a large artillery cannon that when fully telescoped would easily equal if not surpass the mech's sixty-five foot height. The massive cannon was extending to its full length now, and Phoenix could see sparks beginning to dance at its end.

He barely managed to shield his eyes with his arm before a giant column of deadly light burst from the weapon's muzzle, streaking through space towards the enemy formation. Still, though Larry's gun had the power to reach where theirs didn't, they could still dodge it easily—and did so.

"Hey, Nick, don't worry about it," said his cheerful friend. "I figure that as long as we keep them dodgin', they ain't headed towards the _Kurain_, right?" Phoenix nodded… Larry had a point, after all.

Still, something didn't seem right about all this. They were still approaching, though it was at a much slower velocity than they should be. "RYUUICHI… can we get a reading on what classes we're up against?"

"As ordered, Lieutenant—they are now close enough to bypass the sensor interference." There was a slight pause and the hum of electronics. "There are five _Perseus_-class interceptors and one _Bastilla_-class bomber approaching at a fraction of their maximum speed."

Phoenix's eyes narrowed and then widened immediately after. _Only one… that means Redd has to deal with five of the bombers on his own. They probably won't be able to hit him, but… what are they doing here?_ Meanwhile, Larry unleashed another titanic artillery blast, Nick's viewscreens darkening to compensate for the brilliant light.

They could sit here and exchange pointless potshots with the approaching enemies all day, and they'd never get any closer to the _Kurain_—but these weren't the majority of the foes they needed to worry about. Clearly, this was just an exercise to waste time… but for what?

"No time to waste, Larry. You're on my wing, keep close," said Phoenix quickly. His thrusters flared to life behind him, and the humanoid craft drew a short metallic pole from a compartment in its torso—the pole quickly extended into a staff. With a hiss audible even in the tenuous gases around Yggdrasil, a bright green light snapped into existence at the end of the staff, forming a long, curved blade and completing the beam halberd that was his primary weapon.

To his credit, Larry was quick to react, and within seconds was hot on Phoenix's trail, exchanging his large cannon for his own melee weapon—a long, silverish energy blade materializing in his hand, and a matching square shield coalescing on the opposite arm.

The enemies were also quick on the draw, and intensified their barrage now that the pair was within range and rapidly closing. His hands moved on autopilot as he juked the nimble mech through the deadly scarlet hail, opening one last comm channel to Maya. "Maya, tell me as soon as the other group engages White." _I need to know how much time we have left…_

He didn't wait to hear her response, as he was almost at the line of enemy mecha. _Five interceptors; the _Ballista_ won't get a lock anytime soon… so three for me, two for him. That should be okay… simple divide and conquer._ "Straight through the middle, Larry, Make them scatter."

The quintet of ship-to-ship fighters seemed to all move as one, holstering their particle cannons and replacing them with the bright orange glow of their energy sabers. _At least two AI pilots, then… not as easily fooled, but not as creative, either_.

Phoenix mentally counted the seconds down in his head until the two lines of battle would be joined, and reached up to the red control above his head, placing a hand on it but not doing anything just yet. Five, four… three… two…

_One._

Flipping his mech in a hard lateral roll, Phoenix jammed his hand down on the red control, increasing the intensity of the plasma wings to full. The six scarlet beams of energy flared out, doubling in length and width both. As his ship screamed through the center of the enemy formation, the _Perseus_ ships that had intended to cut him open like a tin can when he passed found themselves scrambling to get out of the way of the oncoming crimson death.

They were split, then. Reverse-firing the thrusters to break his velocity suddenly—and gritting his teeth at the heavy G-forces—Phoenix brought his ship around to meet the enemy in another pass.

This time, though, they were ready for him. Three of the hostile mecha were speeding right at him, beam swords held high and ready to slice him into very small pieces.

A part of Phoenix wanted to grin, because he could still very clearly hear Mia's voice in his head in one of the earliest lessons he'd learned. _If there are multiple enemies in a melee situation… use their numbers against them. Make sure they can't all attack you at once by keeping one in between you and the others at all times._

The swords fell—but Phoenix was no longer there, having leapt to the side, his halberd coming up in a slicing blow to the rightmost mech's midsection. That strike, of course, was blocked by the orange energy sword… but then again, that hadn't been the intended deathblow. A crimson plasma wing swept through the air, slashing the white robot in two. The two halves sparked and then exploded, spewing a jet of orange fire into space.

_One down…_ Out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix could see Larry engaged in combat with two of the others, deflecting one of their blows with his shield and parrying the other's with his sword. He seemed to be doing all right for now.

Phoenix's thoughts spun back to the battle immediately as the remaining pair of ships came after him, seeming eager to avenge their fallen comrade. For a moment, he noticed the _Ballista_ hanging away from the battle, seeming to not participate at all. _What the hell is that pilot doing?_

Still, he couldn't afford to think about it now. Phoenix juked the 'Huma' back, dodging whichever of the orange slashes he could and parrying the ones he couldn't with the green light at the end of his halberd. He touched a control on his console as he moved, and two compartments on the bulky shoulder armor of his mech slid open—if the enemy had been paying attention, they'd have seen the muzzles of large miniguns poking out of their concealed chambers.

Lunging forward with his halberd at the closer of his two foes, Phoenix found his strike blocked, as he'd expected. The scarlet wing came around in a repeat of its earlier attack—but this pilot (or AI) was expecting it, and disengaged, dodging to the side.

Phoenix grinned despite himself, squeezing the trigger on the main control. The two miniguns spat hot fire, a rain of molten lead that the enemy flew right into, exploding after a few dozen hits from the powerful if small guns in a most spectacular fashion.

To his side, Larry had apparently dispatched one of his opponents as well. This was going well. They could do this.

Maya's voice suddenly cut through the chaos. "N-Nick?"

She sounded nervous… almost _scared_. That alone told Phoenix that something was wrong. "What is it, Maya?" The final _Perseus_ lunged in with a sweeping strike that was easily deflected.

"The other group just met up with Redd White," Phoenix had expected that—had the other pilot been easily dispatched? The young officer swallowed, prepared to hear the worst.

Evidently, his idea of 'worst' wasn't quite as bad as he'd imagined. "They didn't attack him, just flew by—and… he's flying with them now."

-----

_So, it _was_ you after all, Redd White…_ Mia frowned to herself but tried to keep as calm a demeanor as she could. If she panicked, everyone would panic, and that would mean a very quick 'game over.' Though she didn't know how he could have known about the Yggdrasil mission… at least this meant that neither of the worse options were true.

"Get me White," she said curtly, folding her hands in front of her face as she sat in the captain's chair. "Make sure it's broadcast to the other pilots as well." On the viewscreen, the six dots—now seven—representing the hostile forces slowly approached.

When her subordinate indicated that a channel was open, Mia spoke slowly, deliberately. "How long have you been working for the Federation, White?"

-----

Phoenix barely had enough time to recover from the initial shock before his body seemed to move on its own. He had to stop White and the others… he had to get to the _Kurain_ before they did! The young pilot ignored his final opponent, angling away from the fight and engaging his thrusters at full power.

All of a sudden, he heard two things—the first was the Captain asking White about his treachery, though the fact that she was doing so in a wide-scale broadcast was unexpected. The second, though, was the plaintive tone of a missile lock. _I forgot about the _Bastilla

He was barely quick enough, pulling back on the controls and sending his ship in a corkscrewing spiral up and over—the ten missiles in the pod tried to match his maneuver and failed, bursting into scarlet blossoms all around him. _Was that one just there to make sure we didn't try to get away?_

Redd was answering now. "Oh, Miss Fey, you misunderstandivate me. I'm not in the employ of those bastheads on Elysium. I'm merely what you might referify to as a… businesspersonage. Peoplevition will pay handsomely for any kindage of information. I brokerivate to both sides, you see."

That voice… it had always been annoying to Phoenix, but now the mere sound of it caused his vision to blur. _I _have_ to stop him now! Or… Maya will… and Captain Fey will…!_ There was the sound of the missile lock again.

Jetting hard to the side, Phoenix sheathed his halberd and drew the mid-sized yet surprisingly powerful energy rifle that was his primary ranged option. "I… do _not_ have the _time_ to deal with you!" He pulled the trigger for the secondary fire, and three brilliant golden energy lances cut through empty space at a blinding speed, spearing the bomber before it could dodge. One of the lances ignited the missile magazine, and the _Bastilla_ erupted into gas, fire, and shards of twisted metal.

Larry was indignantly screaming through the comm at Redd, though Phoenix didn't even know if the other pilot could hear the channel anymore. "Larry," he said quickly. "Larry! Calm down… concentrate! You have to deal with those last two, okay? Take care of them!"

He knew Larry would listen to him… hopefully. But he couldn't think about it. Time was very shortly running out, and it was not on his side.

-----

"So, I hope you comprestand… my business relies on people not recognating my personage. Since your long-range communifications have been jammed this entire time, then… well, Miss Fey. I hope you don't takivate this personifically. It's merely business, you see?"

"Of course," her voice was as calm as it ever was. "I understand completely." With a gesture, she motioned for the transmission to be cut, and it was. Mia didn't miss a beat, though her eyes were now transfixed on the lone blip on the display moving rapidly away from the other skirmish zone. "Power down all weapons systems, devote full power to engines. Take us as far away from them as you can."

Kaminogi looked down at her, raising an eyebrow—he could see the anxiety in her face that others could not, but said nothing. "They're faster than us, you know."

She nodded, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she did. "Of course I know that. And he," she pointed at the single dot on the display, "is faster than they are. The more time we can buy…"

The tall officer shook his head, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. "You really think Wright can make it in time, _and_ shoot down seven enemy mecha all on his own? It's a long gamble."

Mia shrugged imperceptibly, her eyes not moving from their focus on the display. "Right now, we don't have much of a choice." She sat back in her chair and looked up at Kaminogi with a thin, almost wistful smile—but a smile nonetheless. "I trust Phoenix Wright, Souryuu. You should, too."

-----

"RYUUICHI, I need you to plot the fastest intercept course you can—and put all power into the thrusters. I mean _everything_." Phoenix gritted his teeth, looking at the large gray bulk that was the small moon they'd chosen as their defense spot. Now, the fact that it required him to fly around it was dire indeed, because precious seconds were ticking away.

The AI beeped in response. "Okay," was all it said—and the proper course appeared on his screen. Though the informal response was quite unlike the behavior he was used to from his mech, he couldn't afford to think about it right now. He couldn't afford to think about _anything_ right now…

Though his inertial dampeners compensated, the G-forces of sudden acceleration pushed him back into the pilot's chair. _Please don't let me be too late._

-----

Mia nodded softly to herself, feeling the uncertainty in her stomach suddenly flare up, though whether or not it was a premonition or just the feeling of someone who could very well be facing death in a matter of minutes… well, that was a mystery. "I have faith in him," she repeated.

-----

Phoenix wasn't sure whether the seconds were passing unbelievably quickly or excruciatingly slowly, but it didn't seem to matter. On his display, the red hostile dots slowly approached the large white dot that was the _Kurain_, but he was catching up to them faster than they were catching up to it. He allowed himself the thought that he'd catch them in time, but… he couldn't stop yet. Not now.

-----

He had almost reached them on the screen, and if the distances shown were right, they'd be coming into visual range just about now. To make things even better, the bombers were still a minute or so out of assault range.

The young Captain turned in her chair, smiling at her First Officer even though the uncertainty hadn't gone away just _yet._ "I told you that you should have faith in him, didn't I?"

Kaminogi grinned at her and was about to respond when all of a sudden the blip that represented Phoenix Wright on the display winked out.

-----

One second, everything had been normal—the bright glow of the viewscreens, the _thrum_ of the engines propelling him through space at high speed, the holographic display of the area in front of him, the data readouts on the main console. It had all been there, it had all been normal. Suddenly, his AI had just announced a single word: "Error."

In the next second, the cockpit went dark—screens, display, readout… everything. The rumble of the engines stopped, leaving Phoenix Wright drifting silently in space.

For an instant, he stared dumbly at the dark viewscreen, refusing to believe that what had just happened had really happened. The instant immediately after that, with a dawning mixture of comprehension and utter horror… Phoenix began tapping all of the startup sequences out on the console, frantically hoping to try and get some response, but there was nothing.

He was dead in space, on a course that would shortly be taking him _away_ from the enemy and from the _Kurain_.

Though his throat felt like it was beginning to close up in panic, he couldn't let himself freeze up. He had to do something. "Dammit, dammit, _dammit!_" Phoenix swore, reaching under his chair for the large emergency cold start button and praying that it would do _something_.

His prayers were somewhat answered, and with a hum, the engines returned to life, as did the viewscreens… but the display remained dark, and just a single line scrolled across the readout in blood-red, dispassionate letters.

'_No AI detected.'_

The realization hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. The 'mechanic' hadn't done a thing to his ship—his AI had been telling the truth. She _had_ sabotaged him, though… she'd somehow engineered the AI program's corruption without the construct finding out.

_I can't think about this…what's done is done. There's no time!_

Grabbing the controls as tightly as he could, Phoenix swung the craft around to face the _Kurain_ and the enemy ships. Without an AI, the control was sluggish—but it worked, and that was all Phoenix could ask for right now… a chance.

They still weren't in firing range. He still had that chance.

Though he couldn't manage the maximum speed he'd achieved earlier, he opened the throttle completely, praying to whatever god existed that he wouldn't be too late, even now.

-----

On the bridge of the _Kurain_, Captain Mia Fey sat stunned, even as her sensor operator informed her that Lieutenant Wright's ship hadn't been destroyed, but was now drifting lifelessly on a course that would eventually take it away from its destination. Her eyes were wide, even as the blip returned to life and—significantly slower—tried to catch up with their pursuers.

"Phoenix…" she whispered under her breath, too softly for even Kaminogi to hear. The uncertainty in her heart was now a painful certainty—but she'd defied such things before. She couldn't give up.

"Captain!" cried out one of the junior officers on the bridge crew. "The enemy bombers are in firing range…"

That started her back into motion, and she stood from her seat, nodding. She'd made her choice, and they'd find a way to make do with it. "I'm sorry, Wright," she whispered to herself. "Prepare for an emergency Jump out of the area."

Her sensor officer looked up at her—and her face was wistful, almost sad. "Captain Fey… we just entered the Elli mass shadow. We can't enter Jumpspace."

For a moment, Mia froze, her heart and mind stopping simultaneously. She caught herself at last, and did the only thing she knew they _could_ do—though she also knew it wouldn't nearly be enough. "Full power to shields."

On the screen, she could see seven blips become far too many to count as the bombers launched their full payload of missiles, and waited for the capricious hand of Fate to lay her cards on the table.

-----

He was too late.

He'd failed.

Phoenix slammed a fist into the metal wall of his cockpit, feeling a jolt of fresh, intense pain rush up his arm and down his spine, but he couldn't care. "Dammit…" he whispered hoarsely, the scream he wanted so desperately to scream not coming.

-----

The first missiles impacted a few feet or so from the hull of the _Kurain_, their energy washing over the blue-tinted kinetic shield and dispersing harmlessly. But those explosions drained the power of the shield, and it flickered and collapsed beneath the coming onslaught.

Beautiful flowers of fire and death blossomed along the length of the battleship, leaving hull plating scarred and singed in some places, and completely blown open in others—and that was before the bombers opened up with their particle cannons, red lightning playing across the hull of the craft.

There was a larger explosion from the rear of the warship near the engines—though the Jump core didn't yet destabilize—and the large white ship began to drift through space helplessly in its dying throes.

-----

The scream finally came, wordless and primal, laden with grief and rage at the actions of his enemies… but more importantly at his own, catastrophic failure. Though logic said that there'd been nothing he could have done against the sabotage… Phoenix knew that there _should_ have been something. He should have seen it coming, or… or dealt with it better…

Though the _Kurain_ was dying, it wasn't dead yet, and Phoenix almost let himself feel a faint bit of hope that he could maybe still do something. Do _anything._ So he continued on his course, the forms of the five bombers, their interceptor companion, and the _traitor_ coming into view.

Who was he kidding? He'd failed. He'd failed utterly and completely, and nothing could change that.

It wouldn't change what had happened, no… but maybe vengeance could give the souls of the dead—faces of people he'd seen eating lunch, or bumped into in the hallway… but never asked their names… kept popping into his mind—some rest.

He let himself cry out in fury once more as he plunged into the fray despite his lack of AI. The bombers had been so absorbed in their task that they didn't see him coming.

His halberd cut through one as he flew past, and it exploded behind him. Another tried to dodge but fell prey to his brilliant blood-red wings, sliced neatly into quarters. A third erupted in righteous fire, melted on the end of his weapon, and the fourth and fifth were gunned down within seconds as they tried to react and escape.

Some part of him probably cared that the bombers were gone; that the actual killers had tasted justice. The dominant part felt like it wasn't enough.

Phoenix moved on autopilot, his hands not connected to his mind, his vision shaky and blurry. The green light of his halberd severed one half of the _Perseus_ interceptor from the other, and at last he was surrounded by nothing except dust and fire-blackened metal that had once been white.

White.

_White…!!_

The traitor was trying to flee the scene, apparently hoping that the sacrifice of his newfound comrades would buy him enough time to escape.

_Will this be 'good for business,' White?_

Though RYUUICHI wasn't around to open up a communication channel, Phoenix spoke anyway, somehow knowing that Redd White was going to hear him. "Murderer," said the young pilot flatly, opening the throttle full-bore once again… Redd's ship was older and slower, and it would be no time before he caught up. "You'll pay for what you've done."

'Jewel' turned around to face him in space, drawing its own energy blade—which naturally shone a brilliant lavender. "Oh, come now, Wright. If you'll recallify, I did say that it was only businessship. Please don't be making it so personalited between us… though if you're feeling suiciditive, I suppose I can help you."

"You _murderer_," whispered Phoenix into the comm before cutting the transmission off once more. _All those people… just for your business. You deserve all this and more._

Redd suddenly fired his own thrusters, jetting at Phoenix, sword coming across in a sweep clearly intended to sever the red avian mecha in two. It might have, too, if Phoenix hadn't seen the attack coming a mile away and prepared—by momentarily halting his thrust, allowing the strike to slash through open air harmlessly.

His own strike was anything but harmless—doing to Redd's 'Jewel' what the elder pilot had just intended to do to him, slicing through steel and circuitry and oil like a sword through water.

"This… this can't be…!" Phoenix heard the other man's voice resonate in his own helmet, and realized that Redd had still been patched into the pilot channel. "This is… it's _impossichievable!_"

A gout of white flame burst from the craft… but that was it, and the explosion that finally tore the mech apart was relatively minor. Phoenix's rational mind knew that Redd White would be unhappy with such a… _non-flashy_ end. For some reason, that seemed to satisfy him, even if just the slightest bit.

They were gone. All of them. The _Kurain_ had been avenged.

As he turned to look at the death of the large white warship that had been his home for six months—his eyes widened. There were escape pods being launched, he could _see_ them. There were people still alive on the ship after all!

_Maybe… Maya? The Captain?!_

However, when he approached close enough to see the bridge of the ship, his heart sank again. It appeared to have been hit directly by one of the missiles, and there was a large hole in the hull that almost undoubtedly was exposing it to direct space.

_No… no! That can't be it! There was… there was something! Weren't there supposed to be… emergency locks? Secondary bulkheads…?! The Captain said that, didn't she?_

It was a long shot—barely grasping at straws. Still, he had to try. He owed the Captain that much, if nothing else…

Without an AI to find the correct frequency, he had to input it by hand—but it was something he knew by heart, so that wasn't too much of a problem. "Captain… come in, Captain! This is Lieutenant Phoenix Wright! Please respond!"

Static answered him, and Phoenix's heart continued the downward drop to shatter against the floor of his stomach. He should have known it was just a fool's hope.

"…Wright…"

Phoenix's eyes went wide. It was her voice—the Captain's voice. Mia Fey sounded weak, and she was almost certainly injured… something told Phoenix it was severe enough to be fatal, though he tried to ignore that part of him. "Captain!" he answered frantically, and in that one instant all the shame and grief he'd felt at his failure boiled over. "I'm… I'm sorry… my AI crashed, and it… it wasn't my fault! It… I'm sorry, Captain…"

The large bulk of Elli passed, continuing on in its orbit, and once more revealed the large shining orb of Yggdrasil. The planet's mottled surface reflected light from the far-off sun directly into the cockpit of his mech through the small windows on either side. Phoenix could see little beads of some liquid suspended in air, weightless, and sparkling in the reflected light.

There was no answer for a long time, and Phoenix had begun to lose hope yet again, when the Captain answered again. "…understood. We evacuated…. ship. You…" static garbled much of her message. "…good…….thank y… …Phoenix. ……Maya."

"Wait, Maya? Is Maya all right?!" His heart caught in his throat.

For an instant, the static seemed to clear up some. "…I can feel… Maya. …alive."

"Take care of her, Phoenix."

The transmission garbled into static after that, and Phoenix heard nothing more. But he knew that not only was Maya alive, but for the moment the Chief as well—and maybe more of the bridge crew.

_Think, Wright! There's got to be something…_ he looked at where he knew the Captain's lifepod would launch, but saw nothing. _If she was going to use it, she'd probably have used it by now… there must be a problem. There has to be something you can do, just think, dammit! _All around the ship, escape pods continued to be launched, but not the _one_ that he desperately hoped to see.

At last, he keyed the communications device once more. "Captain," he began, though he didn't even know if she could hear him. "I'm going to go to the breach in the hull and open my cockpit door… aren't there some vacuum suits on the bridge for a case like… a case like this? Can you put one on and manually escape?"

It was a stupid idea, one that not even Larry would seriously consider—but it was all he could think of, right now. His only hope.

Without an AI, fine control was difficult, if not impossible. Still, he did the best he could, preparing to actually move in close enough to carry out the plan.

Phoenix had just begun to inch his craft forward when there was a briefly visible spark down at the engine end of the _Kurain_—the final death rattle of the magnificent warship as her Jump core was breached.

The breach expanded, a silver, zig-zag light tearing down the middle of the ship, splitting it in two and flaring up brilliantly… without an AI, Phoenix had to shield his face with his hands lest he be blinded.

Finally, with a horrifically loud explosion that one felt more than heard, the _Kurain_ detonated in a blinding wash of light and sound, scattering its dust to the infinite reaches of space.

And then there was nothing.

**Continued…**


	5. The Ties That Bind, Chapter 4

More stuff!

One of the things I like about writing an AU (and this is, uh, _incredibly_ AU) is… well, getting to see _similar_ situations to what happens in-game, but different reactions, etc. Like, for instance, in this chapter! The situation back in Case 2 of the first game was a different one—Phoenix had just met Maya in the office where her sister had been murdered, there wasn't their bond yet. That night, she was arrested… and so, really, other than her "depressed" animation, we never really get to see her mourn her sister. (When you think about it? That night really _sucked_ for Maya)

Any other time in the games where you'd _think_ she'd show some more sorrow, she continues to "be strong for Pearl." Which, admittedly, is part of her character, but personally I think it'd just be interesting to see a bit more of a range of emotions from her. So, because of stuff like that… uh, yeah, I like writing this. Sorry, still a bit sleepy here. cough

Anyway!

The _Kurain_ has been destroyed. By the whimsical hand of Fate, Phoenix finds himself in charge of the survivors… a rather unexpected temporary promotion. Still, amidst figuring out how to keep the people depending on him alive, the lost must be mourned, and there's a young girl missing her sister…

As always, huge thanks to the Gyakuten MECHA crew for all their awesome work, and commentary and criticism is always hugely welcomed/appreciated/asked for. If you like the story (or if you don't!) drop a line, tell us what you think—really, there are a lot of people working their asses off on the project, and a little recognition goes a looooong way.

Enjoy!

**The Ties That Bind**

**Chapter Four**

I think I must have gone over what happened next a few hundred thousand times. While a couple dozen of those were probably in debriefings, hearings, and the like about what actually happened in orbit around Yggdrasil that day, the rest were in my head, in my thoughts. I'd replay the events over and over as I closed my eyes, only to keep watching and rewatching in my dreams once I finally fell asleep.

At the moment, I was stunned. It didn't seem like it could have possibly been _real_—even now, looking at the text of the announcement describing it in plain, simple letters… it still doesn't. It didn't seem real when they awarded Larry and me medals of heroism for our actions following the destruction of the _Kurain_—which never would have had to happen if I'd been just a little more heroic in the first place. Maybe it never will.

Really, I don't know how long I sat in shocked silence for, looking at the gradually emptying space full of twisted steel and the remnants of the place I'd called home for months… finally, it was Larry who snapped me out of it. He'd been yelling for me over the comm for… however long it was, until I answered, still dazed. Larry asked me what we should do.

Right then, I wasn't thinking too clearly, and snapped back at him, asking why I had to be the one to come up with the plan. There was a quiet sobriety in Larry's voice that I'd never heard in over twenty years of knowing him right then, as he told me that I was the highest ranking officer. His AI had queried all the pods about their occupants, and the few personnel that outranked me were all either unconscious, injured, or both.

I was in charge.

Every muscle in my body froze for what felt like an hour. I was in charge? How… how was I supposed to know what to do? I didn't have a plan, I wasn't like the Captain! What could I do? Lives were depending on me, and to make no choice would have damned them all... but I couldn't think.

Looking back on it, I wonder if that's how the Captain felt. I guess it's funny, in a way, how someone can look so calm and confident… but maybe she was just as uncertain and questioning of her choices as I was of mine.

Thankfully, after what had just happened, it seemed as though fate was finally giving us a break. The first bit of good luck was that Larry's AI, THINKER, lived up to its name and told us about a concealed Fusegi emergency base on the moon of Elli that we were approaching. Later, in the debriefings, I'd find out that the base in question had been our goal in the first place, but at the moment none of that really occurred to me… nor did it even matter.

We relayed the data to the AIs of the various lifepods, and the survivors of the _Kurain_ made their way to the large, gray, pockmarked surface of Elli… in a large crater, there was a concealed tunnel, a few kilometers long, that led down to a massive hidden hangar and the rest of the abandoned base. Apparently, the small Fed garrison on Yggdrasil had sent everything they'd had at us, because nobody came to interfere in the grueling rescue operation—though most of the lifepods had working engines, some had been knocked out of commission by the _Kurain_'sexplosive end, and had to be manually towed there by Larry and myself.

Once in the base, we found a few more pieces of good luck coming our way. There was a large freighter sitting in the hangar gathering dust—it was older, but it still worked, and it still had fuel. What was even better, it could hold my and Larry's mecha comfortably, and it was similar enough to the _Kurain_ in operation that we had a crew to take us home.

There was also a functional medical bay, and by some stroke of fortune, our medical crew had all made it out alive. I wish I could say the same for their patients… though the doctors and their assistants tried their damnedest, there were some casualties that were simply too far gone—and they had to focus on saving the ones they could. There are times when I'm glad I'm not a doctor.

All in all, we were a sad little fraction of a crew. There had been just under two thousand people on the _Kurain_—and the survivors, injured, exhausted, and starving (there was no food in the base, not even a working synthesizer) numbered barely seven hundred. Everyone who wasn't there… well, it had been a pretty big explosion, and people don't just survive something like that.

The Captain wasn't there. Nor was Kaminogi, nor any of their bridge staff. I was so busy frantically trying to make things work and somehow come up with a plan on how we'd get out of this mess that it didn't hit me for a while—but I think subconsciously, it was on the back of my mind the entire time.

It was certainly on my mind when I saw Maya.

I saw her fairly early on, a momentary lull in the action that consisted mostly of me desperately making things up and hoping they'd work. She was sitting against the wall, nobody around to talk to—and the potted plant next to her didn't exactly look conversational. Maya heard me as I approached, looked up, and smiled a tired smile.

At that moment, I was just so glad to see her alive and okay that I hadn't really been expecting her to ask about her sister. The question hit like a punch from a prizefighter, right in the stomach.

Had I heard Mia's last words? I'd been watching to see if the Captain's Lifepod launched… but until the end, I hadn't seen anything. Besides that, there had been something in her voice that sounded like she was trying to fight through an injury, and even though I wasn't a Fey I had a hunch that it was fatal. All of that pointed to a very painful fact—Mia wasn't there, and I didn't think she'd be returning anytime soon. Or ever.

When Maya asked me about her sister's fate, there was such a _hope_ in her face that it made my heart stop for a moment. But I couldn't lie to her like that. Still, I couldn't have imagined ever having to tell anybody something this painful. I told Maya… the Captain's Lifepod hadn't launched. And that was that.

Still, the Captain's younger sister remained optimistic—how, I still don't have any idea. She reminded me that the lifepod meant for the Captain was special in that it had advanced medical technology as well as a Jump Drive. Maybe… she'd launched just at the end, and had Jumped to safety, which is why she wasn't there? Even if she'd been unconscious, the AI was programmed to make a Jump automatically to friendly space, and to automatically make contact with HQ once it got there.

What she said was truth, to be sure. It was unlikely… but it was a chance.

When I'd talked to Mia in those last moments before the _Kurain_ went up, she'd said something about Maya being alive—about Maya being okay. She was a Fey, yes, and had all of the strange powers that came with the heritage, and perhaps there was a stronger bond between the two due to their direct blood ties. She'd _known_ that Maya would be all right… maybe Maya felt something of the same in regards to her sister?

Maybe she was just lying to herself. Still, as Maya smiled a forced but present smile at me, reminded me that there _was_ still that hope and that she'd promised to take good care of her sister's plant… and give it back to her… I couldn't bring myself to tell her she was wrong. Besides, she still _could_ have been right. We wouldn't know for a while, after all.

After everyone was in as stable a condition as possible, we gathered up our tired, hungry, wounded and dead into the halls and cargo holds of the freighter, and left the shining crown of Yggdrasil with just a little more space debris in its orbit.

Once we arrived back on Persephone as a crew without a ship, there were endless hearings and debriefings on what had happened, with everybody from the ship's janitors on up getting the full cross-examination. I probably answered the same questions over and over about fifty times in front of different tribunals and Intelligence committees. Larry and I were thanked for our actions after the battle and for thinking and acting quickly, and awarded the Golden Eagle for heroism in a hastily-arranged ceremony that was probably more to put a desperate positive spin on things than anything else.

We were all granted a long leave, and assigned to quarters in the main Fusegi base down on Odyssey in the meantime, since most of us didn't exactly have a place to live anymore.

I'd been on Odyssey for about two weeks, finding that even the beautiful shores of the aqueous planet couldn't quite soothe the restlessness I felt. I was called to the communications center one afternoon, because I, as everyone knew by then, was the heroic officer who saved the tragedy at Yggdrasil from becoming an unmitigated disaster, and it was information that concerned me.

It was also the information I'd been dreading hearing ever since we'd gotten back to friendly space. I'd told Command about the theory that perhaps Captain Fey's lifepod had managed an emergency Jump, and they'd sent probes to the various points where she—or her pod's AI—might have taken her. Even long after she should have arrived, they continued to search, perhaps looking to pick up a transmission of some sort.

But there wasn't anything. With this, Mia Fey, Souryuu Kaminogi, and the rest of the _Kurain's_ bridge crew were officially and finally pronounced dead.

Back on Elli, I couldn't have imagined telling someone as gentle and free-spirited as Maya anything more horrible than what I'd had to tell her then. But there had been hope… and as I walked through the halls to the temporary quarters she'd been assigned, I knew that I'd been wrong.

-----

Phoenix stood outside the cold gray door that led to Maya's quarters, taking deep breath after deep breath and trying to finally muster the courage to ring the buzzer—he wasn't doing too well on that front. It strike him that he would rather be any other place in the entire universe… cold vacuum, inside a blazing star, in a Federation prison on Elysium… rather than there.

His hand reached up to the buzzer, but paused. _I can't tell her this. I _can't_ tell her that her sister's… that Mia is…_

No, that was stupid. _She needs to know,_ his exhausted conscience reminded him. _And you need to tell her—nobody else. You owe it to her, and you owe it to her sister._

For a moment, the image of Maya wearing Mia's Captain's hat as she brought him lunch the other day popped into his mind, completely unbidden. Phoenix tried to push the picture away, trying to gather his strength. It was funny, wasn't it? How he could risk his life in battle almost _easily_, but was terrified of what lay beyond the silent gray door…

The young pilot took a breath and pushed the buzzer. From inside, he could hear it ring, with a more ominous peal than he suspected its creators intended. "Come in," Maya called from within.

If there were any other way, Phoenix would have gladly taken it. But Maya had to know. So, trying to fight the swelling lump in his throat, he stepped forward, the door slid open with barely a whisper, and entered Maya's quarters. The lights were off, though the windows were open and she'd apparently been watching the sun begin to set. It was bare and Spartan—which made sense, since nearly everything they'd owned was now dust in orbit around Yggdrasil. The only ornamentation was the large potted plant off in a corner that it somehow hurt to look at.

When she saw it was him, her face brightened, and there was such an expression of _hope_ on her features for the briefest of instants that it made Phoenix's stomach twist. _I... I can't tell her this._ Maya began to speak, to greet him, and then saw the look on her friend's face… though she still bore the same optimistic smile, it suddenly seemed fragile, brittle.

"Maya…" began Phoenix, squeezing his eyes shut for an instant before opening them, forcing every word out like he was extracting a bullet from a wound. "I… just got word from Command about…"

Though he'd trailed off, it was clear that Maya knew what he was talking about. "…about Sis. Did they… did they find anything? Is she okay?" With the expression on his face and the somber tone in his voice, she had to have known what he was going to say—but she was trying fiercely to keep optimistic anyway.

For a long time, Phoenix didn't say anything—he _couldn't_. The words just wouldn't come. At long last, he managed to squeeze every last syllable out from where they'd gotten caught behind his heart. "…they didn't find anything. They… they looked, but there wasn't anything, and so… they're finally calling off the search."

The young girl sat on the side of her bed, staring at the floor for a few long moments before looking up at Phoenix, the smile on her face now a pale ghost of its normal self, the corner of her mouth twitching once. "Well—just because they didn't find anything… doesn't mean she isn't okay! She could have… she could have Jumped somewhere else for safety… or maybe her communications unit was damaged, or…"

"Maya." Phoenix's voice was hard, but he tried to make it as comforting as possible—but really, he'd never had to deal with something like this before, and every word he said just felt hollow and excruciatingly empty in his chest. "Maya," he repeated, softer now. "I'm… I'm so sorry, Maya."

Silence hung in the air in the small bedroom, and outside the window the sun began its daily descent down below the horizon. The young girl inclined her head for a moment, her long black hair spilling over her shoulder as she did so. "…I see," she said at last, her voice dull and flat.

Really, Phoenix didn't know what he'd been expecting from her. Maya was normally so perpetually cheery… he hadn't known how she'd react to the news. Would she be angry? Would she break down in tears? Would she… would she accept it?

He hadn't been expecting her to be this… _blank_, though. In some ways, it hurt Phoenix far more to see her like this than anything else.

_Should I go?_ The young pilot stood there feeling awkward and completely helpless, more unsure what to do than he'd ever felt in orbit around Yggdrasil.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Maya stood up, though she continued looking at the floor, not coming anywhere near his gaze. Her voice was dull, flat, and excruciatingly _empty_ as she practically whispered, "I need to water Charley."

Phoenix continued to stand there feeling more and more useless by the moment as she walked—no, shuffled—over to the corner of the room, and grabbed a small white plastic watering can that had been lying next to the plant. Her motions were almost robotic as she crossed over to the small sink, turned on the water, and filled the can. Without saying a word, she returned to where her sister's plant sat facing the setting sun, tilting the can and letting nourishing water drip onto its leaves and into its potted soil.

She stood, mechanically watering the large houseplant for what might have been a few seconds or might have been half an hour, not saying a word. Suddenly, Phoenix heard a different sound—a sniff—and upon closer inspection, she seemed to now be pouring the water into empty space beside the plant, but her attention was clearly elsewhere.

With a clatter, the watering can fell from her hand to the ground, and her knees buckled under her. Phoenix had already been moving as fast as he could, but he was still barely in time to catch her as she collapsed. He sunk to his knees, the spilled water spreading across the floor and soaking the legs of his pants, but he didn't notice.

Maya's small body was quaking now, trembling as she clung to him and finally let the tears flow—he could feel them, hot and wet against his shoulder as he held her simply because he didn't know what else to do.

It wasn't until then, as her body shook with each wracking sob in his arms, that he realized how _small_ she was. How _young_ she was—_too_ young to be so alone.

Phoenix wrapped his arms around her as best as he could as Maya cried and the sun sank below the horizon, because there was nothing else for him _to_ do.

**Continued…**


	6. The Ties That Bind, Chapter 5

Ha! I bet you thought this was abandoned, didn't you? Well, THINK AGAIN! Granted, this was a while in coming due to… things… but it's here!

This is a fairly talky-talky chapter, and the following chapter will probably be only a bit less so… but they're a necessary evil, because we're rapidly nearing the end of the introduction and entering the main storyline. And things have to be established, or something like that.

Anyway, please enjoy, and your comments and criticism are EXTREMELY welcomed. Leave your thoughts!

**The Ties That Bind**

**Chapter Five**

_November 23, 4016, 1311 Local Time_

_Odyssey, Fusega City, Alliance Headquarters_

_Office of the Admiral-Captain_

Phoenix Wright shifted in the hard-backed faux-wooden chair, absentmindedly adjusting the lapels on his dress uniform and feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Though he'd found more comfortable chairs on bare, Spartan spacecraft, and though his dress uniform was tight and pinching in a rather irritating way, those weren't the primary reasons for his discomfort. No, it was the surroundings that unsettled him—simply being here, in the antechamber outside the Admiral-Captain's Office waiting to hear his name called… it made him uneasy.

The young pilot didn't know why he'd been summoned to the large sprawling compound that was the seat of power for the Fusegi Alliance to wait outside the large double doors that led to the office of the Alliance forces' Commander-in-Chief. This wasn't the first time Phoenix had been there, no, Admiral-Captain Grossberg had held a small audience with the top students in his Academy class immediately prior to their graduation. He'd thanked them for their hard work and told them that he expected great things from them in the future.

He'd been uncomfortable then, too—there was something about the synthesized wood on the walls and ceiling that was _almost_ realistic enough to just be a bit unsettling. The entire compound had a very sterilized atmosphere that made one feel out of place, like an intruder.

Still, the circumstances didn't help his malaise. Phoenix had thought that Intelligence and his superiors had squeezed him for every last bit of information about the tragedy at Yggdrasil and the loss of the _Kurain_. The past week or so had largely been spent trying to comfort Maya and failing miserably at the task, even as the girl tried fiercely to mask her despair at her sister's death.

He'd hoped that the military brass had been satisfied and would quit their debriefing sessions. That they would let him, Maya, and the others mourn the loss of their comrades and friends and get on with their lives—receive their new assignments under new commanders and put the shadow of Yggdrasil behind them. However, apparently the highest brass tack of them all wanted to grill Phoenix about what had happened for what he hope would be the last time, and, well… orders were orders.

A disembodied voice sounded over well-concealed speakers that he'd been trying unsuccessfully to find in the wall for the past ten minutes. "Lieutenant Wright, the Admiral-Captain will see you now."

--

The Admiral's office was much the same as it had been the last time Phoenix had been there. It was a decently large, rectangular room, though the young pilot felt it was just a bit smaller than he'd expect from the office of the de facto leader of an entire interplanetary government and military. Chairs lined the walls, with six more arranged in a loose semicircle in the center of the room. They all looked more comfortable than the one he'd been seated in outside, naturally.

Various decorations adorned two of the walls, with various holograms, plaques, and other mementos arranged deliberately by someone who clearly knew more about decorating than Phoenix ever would. There was a large fireplace on the third wall—the one that had been facing him as he entered, though Phoenix guessed that it was rarely if ever used with the climate the way it was around Odyssey's equator. All in all, the room seemed quite deliberately designed to give off an air of… tradition, Phoenix supposed.

The intended atmosphere was also reflected in the large desk set back towards the opposite wall, facing the semicircle of chairs. Unlike the fake wood paneling outside, the mammoth piece of furniture was definitely the real thing, obvious even from across the room. It was curved slightly in a shallow arc, and amidst the various datapanels and piles of what seemed to be actual, genuine, paper documents were self-holos and other personal effects.

All around him, the room and its furnishings—from the dark blue carpet on the floor to the matching, purposefully slightly-worn upholstery on the chairs—seemed to be intended to give those who entered the room the impression that this was a room with countless years of tradition and institution behind it. While Phoenix wasn't questioning the room's legitimacy as the seat of power in the Alliance, it was almost amusing—because in the three or so decades since the Fusegi Alliance had been founded in this very city… well, there had only been one Admiral-Captain, and it was the man even now seated in the large black leather chair behind the equally large wooden desk that was the focus of the room.

As Phoenix entered, the door slid shut behind him with a whisper, and Admiral Grossberg looked up from what he'd been attending to. He was certainly rather overweight, though to Phoenix he had the look of a once-powerfully-built man gone to seed over the years. He was wearing a white dress uniform of similar cut and style to Phoenix's own dark blue one, though his was far more ornate, with gold trim along the shoulders and sleeves. However, the pilot was surprised to see a distinct lack of medals on his chest—he had maybe four or five, far fewer than the array many other high-ranking officers in the Alliance wore. While it was still more than the solitary golden eagle weighing heavily upon his right breast, it… well, it was unusual, he thought.

For a second, it looked like Grossberg was almost glad to see him, but in the next instant the corners of his bushy gray moustache seemed to droop, and he suddenly appeared far heavier than he actually was. Phoenix tried not to wonder about it too much as he took several quick steps into the room and then snapped to attention smartly, stiffening up like a board and throwing a sharp salute. "Lieutenant Phoenix Wright reporting as ordered, sir!"

Admiral Grossberg peered up at him over his small round glasses, with dark eyes in a heavyset face that glinted with intellect, albeit a gleam that had undoubtedly dulled over the years. He seemed to scrutinize Phoenix, looking him up and down as the young officer held his salute unwaveringly, before at last saying in a breathy voice, "at ease, Lieutenant." He gestured with a chubby hand at one of the high-backed chairs facing the desk once the younger man had assumed a more relaxed military stance. "Please, be seated."

Really, he supposed he should be honored, being allowed the privilege of sitting in these seats he imagined were only for high-ranking advisors or other military and government officials… but as Phoenix sat in the surprisingly comfortable chair, he was more puzzled than anything else. This certainly hadn't been the atmosphere in any of the prior debriefings—those had been sterile, impersonal, with him answering to empty air questions that had been asked over a communications device. This was… if not warm, certainly… more personal in a way. As if the Commander-in-Chief of the entire Fusegi Alliance had merely called him here for tea.

With a casual, almost absentminded motion, Grossberg pushed a button inlaid on the top of the desk that Phoenix hadn't seen before, since it looked to be made of the same wood as its surroundings (or at least, it'd been painted the same way). The young pilot caught a flicker of motion and a soft golden hue out of the corner of his eye, coming from behind him. For a moment he almost forgot the military decorum he'd been trained to keep, and turned in his chair to look over his shoulder.

The door he'd just entered from and the wall surrounding it were no longer there—instead, the dark blue carpet abruptly gave way to a seemingly endless stretch of waist-high golden grass, waving in a gently blowing breeze that Phoenix couldn't feel on his face. Though Phoenix's internal clock (and wrist chrono) told him that it was just after noon, the sky above the rolling plains was orange as an unseen sun began to sink below the horizon.

It was a hologram, of course. But it was an incredibly _lifelike_ hologram in addition to its size and scope, and it was certainly something Phoenix hadn't been expecting. At a loss for words, the spiky-haired young man blinked, his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise.

Remembering where he was (despite what the fourth wall of the room showed him) and how he should be acting, Phoenix turned back in his seat quickly, sitting straight up and snapping his mouth shut, facing the Admiral-Captain once again. However, if Grossberg had been offended by Phoenix's momentary lack of military propriety, he didn't show it—indeed, beneath his thick moustache, Phoenix imagined that he saw the beginnings of a faint smile of amusement.

"Do you like it?" asked the Admiral, though Phoenix thought that wasn't really the sort of question that sought a response. Grossberg continued, answering the younger man's unspoken question. "It's a scene of the grasslands of Demeter… I grew up there," explained the older man, and for a brief second there was a quick flash of darkness across his face—though Phoenix said nothing, and put it from his mind. "Truly, 'tis a pity that they haven't invented a way to smell holograms yet," continued Grossberg, with a deep, wheezing chuckle.

Shaking his head, the Admiral looked past Phoenix to the vista on the wall. "The lemongrass fields have a very distinct scent, you know. Quite famous, really. The smell of fresh lemongrass… well, it winds back the years, lad. I'm sure you understand."

Grossberg shook his head again. "But that is irrelevant right now… it is a familiar vista that helps me think, and that is all." He paused, a pregnant silence in the room before he folded his hands in front of him, elbows on the desk, and looked over his glasses at Phoenix once more. "Lieutenant Wright, do you know why I summoned you here today?"

Phoenix opened his mouth to reply, closed it, and then finally answered with the slightest of shrugs. "No, sir. I don't. I had… assumed you wanted to ask me more questions about the incident at Yggdrasil, sir."

"Lieutenant, I think all the questions that need to be asked have been asked over and over already. Wouldn't you agree?" He paused again, though it didn't seem like he was actually waiting for an answer from the younger man—instead, his eyes were closed, and the Admiral seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

At long last, Grossberg went on with the barest nod of his head. "Lieutenant Wright, there are several reasons why I asked you here." He paused again, and then looked up, his small dark eyes locking with Phoenix's and not moving. "Firstly, I… wanted to thank you. For your actions during and after the tragedy at Yggdrasil."

That certainly hadn't been what Phoenix had been expecting, and he stiffened up in the chair, blinking but otherwise remaining silent. However, Grossberg continued to look at him and it didn't look like he was going to go on—this time, it seemed he _was_ waiting for a response from the pilot.

Speaking slowly and carefully choosing his words, Phoenix responded at last, "…thank you, sir. I… was under the impression, sir, that that was what this medal was for," he indicated the lone golden eagle on his uniform with a little nod of his head—for some reason, it seemed to get heavier all of a sudden.

"A medal is a thank you from the government and military of the Fusegi Alliance, Lieutenant," replied Admiral Grossberg, his gaze still firmly fixed on Phoenix's face. "It is also an opportunity for those concerned with image and public relations to popularize their interpretation of events."

He bowed his head, breaking the eye contact at last before looking back up at Phoenix, though his gaze seemed softer now. "I wanted to thank you for your actions personally, as leader of the Alliance military and as myself."

Phoenix felt his ears burning—out of shame, not embarrassment—but nonetheless managed a formal, forced, "Thank you, Admiral Grossberg, sir," before falling silent, staring out in front of him at nothing in particular.

There was a knowing look on Grossberg's face now. "You… feel you don't deserve thanks, Lieutenant Wright?"

Despite the tone, it wasn't a question.

Silence reigned in the room for what felt like several minutes before Phoenix swallowed and shook his head. "Sir, I was unable to prevent the loss of the _Kurain_. I… didn't do _enough_." Apparently, he'd discovered reverse alchemy—the golden eagle pinned to his right breast had undoubtedly turned to solid lead.

The sound that next broke the silence was not a sound Phoenix had expected to hear in response—Grossberg was chuckling. True, it was a subdued, almost wistful laugh, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "Captain Fey was right about you, Lieutenant. You _do_ need to learn to accept praise."

"Lieutenant Wright… I will tell you something. The loss of the _Kurain_—the ship itself—does not concern me. It was an outdated model, to be sure, and our recent capture of the shipyards and resources on Persephone mean that it can be quite easily replaced at minimal cost."

Despite his already-large bulk, Grossberg seemed to suddenly get heavier, his gaze dropping to the hard wood desk for the slightest of moments as he rested one hand on the other. "Good PR or not, Lieutenant, there is absolutely no question that you deserve that medal you are wearing. My officers and I have been over records of the battle at Yggdrasil quite thoroughly, I assure you—accounts of the survivors, the data records from your wingman's mech, and so on."

He paused again, a shadow crossing his face again. "Lieutenant Wright, there was nothing you could have done to save the _Kurain_, given the sabotage of your craft and the unexpected treachery of Redd White." His ears burned even hotter, but Phoenix set his jaw, saying nothing.

Grossberg's breathy voice faltered for a moment as he shook his head. "I do not grieve for the loss of the _ARS Kurain_. I grieve—as a commander, and as a person—for the loss of her crew. For the many brave men and women who gave their lives that day."

His voice was softer now, but even a low whisper could have carried across the large office perfectly. "Captain Fey and Commander Kaminogi were close friends of mine, as well as some of the most promising officers in all of the Fleet."

"The loss of the ship and those who perished with it… is by no means your fault, Lieutenant. It _is_ because of you, however, that the assaulting force was destroyed before they could deliver further damage to the dying _Kurain_. Because of you, more people were able to reach escape craft. Because of your actions, they were safe from hostile attacks while in such a vulnerable state. And furthermore, the actions you and your wingman took in the aftermath ensured the safety and survival of nearly all those who escaped, save those already suffering mortal wounds."

Grossberg's gaze and voice seemed to regain some of their strength as he looked back up at Phoenix's burning face. "Make no mistake. There are seven hundred and sixteen men and women who wear the colors of the Alliance who are alive right now because of what _you_ did, Lieutenant Phoenix Wright. What happened at Yggdrasil was certainly a tragedy; there is no way to get around that… but because of you, it was not the disaster it could have been."

The Admiral-Captain reached a chubby hand up to adjust the small reading glasses he wore, and there was suddenly an earnestness in his voice that hadn't been there before. "And that, Lieutenant… is why I wanted to thank you."

Phoenix remained silent, not entirely sure what it was he was supposed to do. After all, Grossberg was the commander-in-chief of the entire Alliance military—a simple, casual "You're Welcome" felt almost like insubordination. But then again, shouldn't he say something, _anything_ at all? Though he never opened his mouth, Phoenix felt unspoken words lodge in his throat, subside and then return again.

He was grateful when Grossberg broke the silence, speaking again. "That is not the only reason I asked you here today, Lieutenant Wright." His eyes seemed to bore holes into Phoenix's own as he continued in his breathy voice. "Stand up, Lieutenant."

Even if it wasn't exactly protocol, the pilot couldn't stop the inquiry from escaping his lips. "Sir?" In the next heartbeat, he remembered the military decorum he'd been drilled to observe, and quickly stood up from the soft-backed chair, snapping to attention and wondering what _this_ was all about.

"As I said before," continued the elder officer, "Commander Souryuu Kaminogi and Captain Mia Fey were friends of mine—and what's more, they were two of the most promising officers in our entire forces. Had the Commander not expressed a powerful wish to remain attached to forces under Captain Fey's command, he would have undoubtedly received a promotion and his own force."

A still memory flashed through Phoenix's mind—the Captain and the Commander on the bridge, she in the chair, he standing at her side—but he tried to push it away, concentrating on what the Admiral was saying and wondering where it was he was going. "Their loss is not only mine, but that of the entire Alliance. The shipyards on Persephone enable us to rapidly produce warships, yes, but there is no replacement for a competent, respected commander." With a muffled sigh of effort, Grossberg stood from his chair, and Phoenix noticed that the Admiral was shorter than he was.

"Captain Fey often spoke quite highly of your abilities to me, Lieutenant Wright—not only as an exceptional pilot, but as a natural, capable leader." His blood started to chill again as Phoenix suspected he knew where this was going—but it couldn't be. It simply _couldn't!_ "With the tragedy at Yggdrasil, the Alliance has lost two of its most promising commanders, and those are in dreadfully short supply."

The overweight Admiral's shoulders slumped as he sighed, the corners of his moustache drooping. "Though I think we can agree you have not had as much actual experience as one would optimally prefer… you have proven yourself a capable and courageous leader, Lieutenant." The ice water in his veins continued to freeze, now more closely resembling liquid nitrogen. Though Phoenix's gaze was frozen at attention, looking fixatedly at the wall behind the Admiral-Capitan, he could see a wistful smile on Grossberg's face beneath his bushy moustache as he made his way around the desk, holding something in his hand. "I do wish that this could come at a… happier time, my boy. However, I can think of none other in the entire military whom it would please Mia Fey more to see recognized for their skill and ability."

It couldn't be. Phoenix swallowed reflexively, trying not to look at the pudgy hand Grossberg was extending. He _couldn't mean_—

He did. Grossberg unfolded his hand, and resting in the center of his palm was a small metal insignia about the size of his thumbnail. It was perfectly circular, and it looked almost like some sort of flower, with a raised rim and a flat center. Phoenix had a similar pin on his collar right now indicating his current rank, though it wasn't nearly as ornate.

Though he tried to keep his gaze steady, he found it drawn to Grossberg's small, watery eyes half-concealed behind his small round glasses. "Congratulations… Captain Wright."

His hand moved of his own accord to meet Grossberg's, the metal badge pressed into his palm—it felt heavier than it looked—and his fingers curled around it, feeling the ridges and bumps, trying to somehow reconcile reality with itself. The Admiral had turned around to walk back to his desk, and he was speaking: "Naturally, there will be a small ceremony for official purposes, but the paperwork shouldn't be a problem. While we haven't drafted your orders yet, I expect you'll be given command of a smaller cruiser and sent to reinforce our defenses beyond Tellus and Persephone; closer to the edge of the asteroid belt…"

"Sir," Phoenix found himself saying, his gaze focused on the small bronze decoration in his hand.

"Hmm? What is it, Lieu—ah, Captain?" Grossberg had turned to face him, about to sit back down in his chair, a thick eyebrow arched.

The young pilot swallowed hard past a lump in his throat, trying to maintain the composure he was expected to have, had been trained to have. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Grossberg sank back into his large chair slightly more gracefully than Phoenix would have expected, and folded his hands together, peering at the younger man over his round glasses. "Permission granted."

"Sir, I…" Phoenix felt his voice crack for a second, and then focused, gathering his composure and putting as much strength as he could into his words. "Sir, I cannot accept this promotion."

If the Admiral was surprised by Phoenix's words, he didn't show it—on the contrary, a strange look flashed on his face as if he'd almost been _expecting_ it. "Oh? And why not, Captain Wright?"

For a moment, Phoenix closed his eyes, trying to gather all the fragmented thoughts and feelings bouncing around his mind into something resembling a coherent train of thought. "I… don't believe I deserve it, sir."

Grossberg kept that same maddeningly calm expression, still collected and behaving very much like he'd anticipated the pilot's reaction. "I don't see why you would say that, Captain Wright. The reports Mia Fey delivered as well as your very own combat logs clearly show you leading your fellow pilots confidently, making quick and wise decisions… and back at the Academy, you passed the officer course with flying colors, did you not? And of course, your actions at Yggdrasil certainly solidify this impression."

Though it required quite a bit of willpower, Phoenix maintained a composed exterior, exhaling slightly through clenched teeth as he shook his head. "Sir, that's…" he took a deep breath before speaking again.

"At Yggdrasil, I almost… didn't. Do what I did, I mean. I… sir, I froze up. I almost didn't make a decision, and I almost got people killed because of it." He swallowed again, his gaze once more drawn to the heavy badge in his hand. "When I'm flying, sir, all I have to worry about is my life. If I make a mistake, the only person in danger is… me. If I'm a leader, and I make the wrong choice… people who are depending on me could die."

"Even if you make the _right_ choice, people who are depending on you could die, Captain Wright." Grossberg's voice was hard, his gaze equally so, but there was a strange sympathy in the way he frowned. "You're an excellent pilot, my boy—surely there have been times when you've simply outflown an enemy? Their commander could have made all the right choices, but in the end, your individual skill won the day."

He shook his head, the tips of his graying hair wafting from side to side. "I shan't lie to you, because I think you deserve the truth. There are moments when being a leader of good men and women is one of the most demanding positions a person can hold in his lifetime. It is rarely easy."

The Admiral reached up to adjust his glasses again, and the momentary glint of light off the lenses obscured his eyes for the briefest of instants as he sighed. "Alas, Phoenix Wright… this is a time of war. And good men and women will die—willingly or otherwise. Because the alternative is little more than slavery and tyranny. This is a time of war; this is a time that needs good, capable leaders. As a commander, people under you can and _will_ die, sometimes from a choice you must make. But the alternative, Captain?" His voice, having built in a crescendo as he spoke, suddenly died down to a harsh whisper.

"To choose nothing means that the people who have died under you and those who came before you gave their lives in vain. The Alliance needs commanders like you, Wright." He looked down at his desk, and then looked up, the barest hints of a thin smile on his face. "Whether or not you _almost_ didn't act at Yggdrasil… is irrelevant. What matters is that you _did_ act."

Grossberg looked past Phoenix—who was still standing frozen at attention, his heart pounding in his chest and his cheeks hot with a dozen different emotions—to the holographic display on the wall beyond. "Years ago, Mia Fey stood in the exact spot you now stand and told me that she didn't believe herself capable of leading; on her first command, she hesitated and almost failed to act when it was required of her. But she did."

Phoenix blinked in shock—the Captain? That didn't seem like her at all—she'd always been confident and sure, intelligent and decisive. But… who was he to know what she was actually thinking?

Had she, too, been scared to act? Worried that her choices would condemn those who placed their faith in her to death?

"In many ways, Captain Wright… I think we all envied the gifts that Mia Fey's bloodline gave her as a commander and a soldier. But even with those gifts, she froze up the first few times she was called on to lead. We all did—and it never quite goes away. However, what you almost do doesn't matter, Captain. What you _do_ does."

"I cannot force you to accept this promotion… however, it is my belief that you are more than capable of the position, and I believe the late Captain Fey would agree with me. The Alliance would benefit tremendously from your talents, Phoenix Wright." He adjusted his glasses again, even though they hadn't really moved much since the last time. "I will give you precisely forty-eight hours to consider your choice. In two days' time, come back and give me your answer—and we'll go from there. Is this understood?"

Though his heart still threatened to break his chest with its furious pounding, Phoenix took a deep, calming breath, and snapped a salute. "Yes, sir."

Grossberg opened his mouth, clearly about to dismiss him, and then paused before he could say a word, realization crossing his features. "Ah! I almost forgot!" The Admiral leaned over, and Phoenix could hear a drawer in his desk being pulled open. For a second, his blood ran cold again—what was it now? Was he being promoted to Admiral? Being made President of the entire damn Alliance?!

When the obese officer straightened up again, there was something in his hands that he laid flat on the wood paneling of his desk. It was a black rectangle, roughly the size of Phoenix's palm and three times as thick, with gold pins and circuitry lining the edges and sides. The pilot recognized it immediately—it was a datapak, and from the look of it, one specifically designed to hold a ship's AI construct.

"During the battle at Yggdrasil, the AI in your mech suffered fatal and irrecoverable system failure, correct?"

A little twinge ran through his body—yes, RYUUICHI had been nothing more than an artificial intelligence, so he wasn't really _dead_… he'd never been alive. But still, his personality had been based off a real person, and so the construct's loss was nevertheless oddly disheartening. "That's right, sir."

This time, the smile that flickered across Grossberg's face was unmistakable—melancholy, yes, but a smile nonetheless. "About a month before the tragedy… during her leave, Captain Fey made a strange request. This is certainly a coincidence." He chuckled, a wheezing cough of a laugh. "But then again, I wonder if anything _could_ be a true coincidence when dealing with a woman like Mia Fey. I believe she wanted you to have this."

Phoenix took a step closer to Grossberg's large desk, putting the bronze badge down onto the wood and picking up the datapak. It was heavy, packed tightly with sensitive components and circuitry that was entirely too complex for Phoenix to ever really understand. It was a good weight in his hands, cool and smooth—but not slick—to the touch. He turned it over in his hands, looking at it carefully, and then something caught his eye… it was the serial identification number.

His eyes widened as he read it. Could the Captain really have…?

_Class 3B AI Construct_

_4192581554—MIA_

"Wright," came Grossberg's voice, jarring him from his disbelieving reverie.

"Sir?"

"Take the insignia with you," the older man indicated the badge on the desk with a nod of his head. "Think about it."

"You're dismissed, Captain."

**Continued…**


End file.
